


Fifty Draughts of Snape

by originella



Series: Fifty Draughts of Snape [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Bottom Harry Potter, Dark Past, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Fifty Shades of Grey Parody, Fifty Shades of Grey References, Fluff and Angst, Good Severus Snape, Heavy Angst, Hedwig is alive, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Monogamy, Moody is alive, No Battle of Hogwarts, No Horcruxes, No Triwizard Tournament, Past Abuse, Post-Hogwarts, Potions Master Horace Slughorn, Potions Master Severus Snape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Severus Snape Has a Sibling, Severus never taught at Hogwarts, Sirius is Dead, Spanking, Strangers to Lovers, Tom Riddle was never Voldemort, Top Severus Snape, Virgin Harry Potter, lily and james are dead, no bdsm, remus and tonks are alive, wizarding university
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originella/pseuds/originella
Summary: Twenty-one-year-old English lit major Harry Potter is a senior at Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry. When his best friend and roommate, Ron Weasley, who is getting a degree in combat to be eligible for the Auror Academy, falls ill, Harry steps in to help him complete the final interview he has been assigned to in the school paper, The Fortnightly Firedrake. When he arrives, he is stunned to meet Master Severus Snape, the youngest potions master the Wizarding World has seen in centuries. The attraction is immediate; however, forty-two-year-old Severus Snape has a dark past, making it difficult for him to trust others. Because of this, Harry is unsure if he can be what Severus needs, and the pair are in for a rough ride.
Relationships: Alicia Spinnet/Fred Weasley, Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Dean Thomas/Ginny Weasley, Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood, Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Series: Fifty Draughts of Snape [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918660
Comments: 49
Kudos: 175





	1. The Interview

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreaming_of_the_crash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaming_of_the_crash/gifts).



> I know, I know - this will be different that Fifty Shades in that I am just not comfortable writing BDSM. Please read the warnings accordingly; thank you, and I love you all.

Harry Potter pushed himself out of bed and meandered across his bedroom towards the en suite bathroom, in the flat he shared with his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron had gone through their supply of Dreamless Sleep the night before, as he had an important interview with the Wizarding World-famous potions master, Severus Snape, in Central London that day. Trudging into the bathroom and relieving himself, Harry dragged a hand through his messy black hair, and stared at the startling green eyes in his mirror. Shaking his head, Harry washed his hands and completed the various absolutions before he walked out of the bathroom, through his bedroom, and out into the living room, where he saw a pitiful-looking Ron, wrapped in an afghan, which had been knitted by his mother, upon their couch.

Harry raised his eyebrows, taking in the disquieting color difference between his best friend’s red hair and white face. “What’s going on with you?” he asked.

“Wizard’s Flu, I think,” Ron said, trying to get himself into a more comfortable position. “I even tried some of those Muggle crackers ‘Mione recommended,” he went on, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. “They didn’t do any good.”

Harry pursed his lips, crossing the room and perching upon one of the wingback chairs. “What about the interview?” he asked.

Ron pulled a face. “I only joined _The Fortnightly Firedrake_ at Flarmerth because ‘Mione said it would look good on my final application for the Auror Department at the ministry,” he said, suddenly growing paler. He conjured a bucket from nowhere, and bent his head into it, retching into the thing.

Harry felt his insides somersaulting as he waved his hand, effectively blocking the smell from coming anywhere near him. “You could’ve chosen to be a part of the Quidditch section, or the one on magical creatures,” he put in. Ever since their graduation from Hogwarts three years before, Harry and Ron had been accepted at Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry, an-all boys’ wizard university, located in London. Harry had given up dreams of the Auror Department, and had taken up a course in English literature—of course, this meant wizarding and Muggle—and found it fascinating.

Ron stuck his tongue out at Harry, once he’d finished vomiting. “And I told you and ‘Mione that those were taken,” he said bitterly, casting a Cleaning Charm upon his teeth. “I know I could’ve attempted to join them whenever a new term began, but...”

“But you didn’t want your previous work to go to waste. I understand,” Harry told him, giving the man a sympathetic look. “Do you think that you’ll be able to make the interview with the potions bloke today?”

“Severus Snape—Slughorn talked about him enough,” Ron put in, and shuddered. “And no, I don’t think so. Feeling too rotten, and you know ‘Mione would kill me if I dared to potentially infect a fellow academic,” he said quickly, although no color flooded his cheeks as he mentioned his steady girlfriend of several years standing.

Harry sighed, leaning back slightly into the chair. He knew how Hermione would be very upset if Ron’s illness transferred to this Snape person, he decided that Ron was likely not going to be leaving the flat that day. But, then again, Hermione was excellent at putting things together, so he asked, “What about ‘Mione doing the interview for you?”

Ron shook his head at his best friend. “You know how she’s been whenever she started at Vaenmiara after Hogwarts,” he said, his tone slightly bitter.

Harry gave a heartfelt sigh and nodded. It was true; their best friend had finished first in their class at Hogwarts, naturally, and had joined the all-girls’ Vaenmiara Academia of Witchcraft come September, taking correspondence courses throughout the summer. She, like them, was on track to graduate that June, from the prestigious university located in Bath, and was set to obtain a degree in Wizarding Law. Because of this, Hermione had a full class schedule, plus partook in tutoring sessions involving students who needed a leg-up marks-wise, and regularly contributed to the Muggle history section of _The Valcore Vlog_.

“She’s got a handful of tutoring sessions today,” Ron put in a moment later. “Besides, I couldn’t ask her to bail me out. It’s my last assignment for _The Firedrake_...”

Harry swallowed. “Ginny, then?” he queried, knowing that Ron’s little sister wouldn’t readily do a favor for him, considering that she’d had feelings for Harry all throughout their years at Hogwarts, and had been momentarily blindsided when Harry had come out as gay. However, he had been relieved when she—plus the rest of Ron’s family—had taken the news in stride, with Ron and Hermione claiming to have been aware of it all along, and Ginny getting into a relationship with Dean Thomas rather quickly.

“You know that Gin’s on the Quidditch retreat with the Harpies,” Ron responded, remembering how his mother had been thoroughly put out that her only daughter, alongside her twin sons, Fred and George, had forgone university and had opted instead to work.

Harry nodded, suddenly remembering how Ginny had been practically bouncing up and down about the opportunity during the Christmas holidays, around four months before. He recalled how supportive Dean had been, although he could fully understand how much the young man would miss Ginny; Dean was set to graduate, alongside Harry, Ron, and their other two friends from Hogwarts, Seamus and Neville, that June. “Who do you suggest, then, Ron?” Harry asked, unknowing who could possibly be available to fill in.

Ron perked up visibly at that. “You?” he asked.

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “What? Ron...”

“Your only Friday class got cancelled, remember?” Ron asked.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders; his Professor of Wizarding and Muggle Literature, Remus Lupin, was his godfather; Remus and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, were currently expecting their second baby anytime now, and Harry was set to watch their son, his godson, Teddy, during the weekend, as it was believed that Tonks would be going into labor with their first daughter during that time. “I suppose you’re right, there,” Harry muttered, kicking his trainer against the hardwood of the floor.

“I’ve got plenty of notes, plus the coordinates to the Floo Network,” Ron said quickly, eagerly hoping that his best mate wouldn’t change his mind.

Harry sighed. “Really?” he asked, unsure if he believed him.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yes, really,” he said, a tad bit impatient that Harry wouldn’t think he thought his position at the paper was a serious one. “I’ve also got a list of questions you can ask Master Snape. He’s one of the youngest men in the Wizarding World to achieve a full Potions Mastery, you know. Slughorn only had a degree,” the redhead informed him.

Harry blinked. “How young?” he asked, sounding not at all interested.

“He’s in his forties,” Ron replied with a small shrug. “I heard he got his mastery when he was around our age.”

Harry once again dragged his hand through his hair; he knew that he was the only option, as Hermione was likely preparing for her graduation exams; Ginny had the tour with the Harpies; Fred and George had their shop to mind; Dean was planning to visit his family to gain some inspiration for his Muggle Studies Degree; Seamus and Neville had barely passed potions while at Hogwarts, and were getting their degrees in charms and herbology respectively; their good friend and Neville’s fiancée, Luna, was off doing a research project in Scandinavia for her Magizoology Degree; Percy, another one of Ron’s elder brother’s, was hard at work in his new position for the Wizengamot and planning his wedding to his own fiancée, Audrey; Charlie, yet another one of Ron’s siblings, was in Romania at the dragon preserve he worked at; and Bill and Fleur, curse-breakers for Gringotts, had just announced Fleur’s third pregnancy. As for Arthur, he was enjoying his retirement from the ministry, as well as being yet another silent partner for Fred and George at their shop, while Molly had banded together with Audrey, and Fred and George’s girlfriends, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, to make a new line of healing and household spell books.

“Could you do it?” Ron asked, his voice soft as he picked at a piece of imaginary fluff upon the afghan. “I mean, if you don’t want to, I can ask Cormac to do it,” he muttered, not really liking the editor and chief of _The Firedrake_ , not even during their Hogwarts years. “I mean, you did the best in potions, mate, even better than ‘Mione.” His eyes quickly raised towards Harry’s. “Don’t tell her I said that,” he said quickly.

Harry shook his head, knowing that it wouldn’t end well if he did. He leaned back in the chair, and knew full well that he would have to complete the interview on Ron’s behalf. “When is it scheduled, then?” he asked.

“The meeting with Master Snape? One,” Ron replied.

Harry checked his watch, and saw that it was nearly ten. “And you’ve got the questions, the notes, and the Floo Network coordinates?” he asked, not wanting to step a toe out of line, knowing full well that it would be disastrous if he went anywhere around a so-called professional completely unprepared.

“Yes, yeah,” Ron said quickly, summoning them with a flick of his wand, and a stack of parchments flew into Harry’s hand, along with a Quick-Quotes Quill, so as all Harry really had to do was sit there and observe.

Harry made a noise of slight exasperation, conjuring a folder for them so that they wouldn’t potentially get ruined. “Can you tell me anything about him, then?” he asked.

“His name is Severus Snape,” Ron replied, his red brows knitting together, and Harry decided he didn’t fully want to know why that name made his insides churn and flop about. “He’s around Remus’s age, I would guess.”

“So, forty-two, then?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. He went to Hogwarts with Remus,” he continued, managing to pull himself up into a proper sitting position. “Which means he also went with...”

“Sirius, and my mum and dad,” Harry said softly, tracing around the blue-colored folder he had conjured for the pieces of parchment.

“Sorry, mate,” Ron said softly.

Harry sighed. His parents had been murdered by Tom Riddle when he was a baby, and Riddle had subsequently been sentenced to the veil for his crimes, and had been the last wizard to be executed, for lack of a better term, on behalf of the Wizengamot. However, even though the man was dead, he still had plenty of loyal followers, given that one of his godfathers, Sirius Black, who had had custody of Harry upon his parents’ deaths, had been killed by one Bellatrix Lestrange, who was Sirius’s own cousin. Because of this, Harry was put into the care of Ron’s family, despite Remus being his other godfather, as the Wizengamot believed that Harry’s comfort was of the most importance in the tragedy of the situation. From the time of the summer after his fifth-year at Hogwarts, Harry had been a Weasley in truth, and had lived with them until graduation, until he and Ron got their flat in London.

“Don’t be sorry,” Harry said briskly, plastering a smile onto his face and holding the parchment folder close to his chest. “It was hardly your fault, wasn’t it?” He got to his feet then, and moved into the kitchen to procure a cup of tea. It was gone ten o’clock already, so he had plenty of time to have said tea, shower, and wrangle something appropriate out of his wardrobe. He wished that he would have the opportunity to ask Hermione to give him some more information on this Snape guy, but, perhaps, the notes and such would be of help.

Once the kettle had gone off and Harry had his tea, he brought it with him into the living room and banished the folder back into his bedroom. He sat with Ron and chatted about Quidditch, their upcoming graduation, and their intended shopping trip into Diagon Alley, wherein Harry was going to help Ron in picking out an engagement ring for Hermione. Once he’d finished his cup of tea, he banished the cup to the kitchen and decided to take a shower, knowing that, if anything, he could at least look the part.

Harry turned the nozzle of the shower to a temperature he liked and moved to stand beneath it, relishing the feeling of the water trickling down and massaging his back and shoulders. It had been a stressful term, given that he and Ron would be looking for living arrangements elsewhere quite soon, and Ron’s hoped-for wedding planning to Hermione. Harry was confident that his best friend would accept Ron’s proposal, and that they would likely move in together and have the wedding right away.

Harry was due to go to Gringotts quite soon as well, to look over the Potter family will and figure out what property he could conceivably live in. He was unsure, at this stage, what to do with his degree. Upon his graduation from Hogwarts, he learned, for the first time, just how wealthy he truly was, so it wasn’t as if he absolutely had to get a job. The only stipulation for him gaining the Potter fortune (not the Black, as that was already in his name, and ensured that he and Ron could afford a flat in a decent neighborhood) was that he had to have a degree from a respected Muggle or wizarding university. It didn’t state that he had to do anything with said degree, just that he had to have one, and then all the Potter fortune would be his.

Shutting off the water and opening the glass panel door, Harry stretched his limbs one last time as a towel sailed into his hands. He made quick work of drying himself off, before securing the towel as a makeshift toga around his waist and stepped into his bedroom. He decided that semi-formal robes would be the way to go, and selected his green afternoon robes for the occasion. He paired them with a white button-down, a green jumper, and black trousers, along with a pair of socks from his former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and black dress shoes.

Harry stepped out of the bedroom, having shrunk the folder and placed it into his pocket, and saw that Ron was slowly eating a bowl of soup on the couch. “Feeling any better?” he asked, and scanned the living room of their flat, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

Ron sighed, softly slurping the soup. “Eh,” he replied with a shrug. “I’ll manage... Do you have everything you need?”

Harry nodded; he patted his pocket to show Ron where he’d put the folder, and he’d memorized the Floo Network code for Snape’s business. “Everything’s here,” he said, and smiled. “You just focus on getting better, all right?”

Ron nodded; he’d summoned various assignments towards him so as he wouldn’t have to get up again, and Harry just hoped that he wasn’t working himself too hard. “I’ll try.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head indulgently before he ruffled his best friend’s hair and turned towards the Floo. Taking ahold of a generous handful of Floo Powder, he uttered, “Fiole Bureau,” and tossed the powder into the flames, before he was swallowed up. Somehow managing not to trip over his own two feet upon arrival, he stared at the expanse of ebony wood and expensive-looking oil paintings around him, impressed with the taste of whoever had decorated the place. It was almost a chore to cast _Scourgify_ on himself before he made his way to the front desk, and waited until the receptionist took notice of him.

“May I help you?” the woman asked.

“I’m here for a one o’clock appointment with Master Snape,” he said.

“Ah, yes. The interview for _The Fortnightly Firedrake_ ,” the woman replied with a nod. She had a switchboard in front of her, reminding Harry of phone operating systems in old films, and she pressed a few buttons before she presumably got through. “Penelope,” the woman said into the receiver, “the student from Flarmerth is here for his interview with Master Snape. Ah, yes, very good,” she said, and hung up. “Master Snape’s personal secretary will be along shortly to escort you,” she said, and smiled at him; she had blonde hair and blue eyes, and Harry noticed that her name plate said Mafalda Hopkirk. “Is there anything I can get you?”

Harry shook his head at her. “No, I’m fine, thank you,” he replied. Turning at the sound of high heels upon the floor, he gave a final smile to Mafalda and turned to face the young woman before him, whom he remembered was called Penelope. “Good afternoon,” he said, and gave her a smile.

“Good afternoon,” she replied, returning his smile. “Master Snape will see you now,” she said, and beckoned, before leading him down and around the corner, before she brought him towards the end of the corridor, where two ebony wood doors were carved with beautiful-looking serpents. Penelope gestured that this was the place he was looking for, before Harry gave her a nod and pushed the door open.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold than had he tripped over the hems of his robes and went sprawling onto the ground. The gasp which had escaped his lips could not be avoided as he landed, hard, onto the floor, which was the same ebony wood throughout the place. He nearly squeaked then as a pale, elegant-looking hand with tapered fingers reached towards him, and Harry looked up, seeing Master Snape for the first time, and the man looked slightly taken aback at Harry’s face.

“Mr. Weasley?” he asked, his dark brows furrowing, as he guided Harry to his feet.

“No, no I’m sorry, Master Snape,” Harry replied, shaking his head as he managed to get to his feet, the magnetism within Master Snape’s eyes very nearly compelling him to do so. “Ron... Mr. Weasley was ill, and so I came. I’m his roommate Harry, Harry Potter,” he said softly.

Master Snape gave a critical nod before exiting Harry’s personal space and wandered over to sit back behind his desk. “I’ve a potion that in its critical phase at the moment, and so the Stasis Charm may not hold properly,” he said, and sank into his ornately-carved seat. “It’s a new potion of my own invention, and so we’ve only got ten minutes, I’m afraid.”

Harry nodded, knowing that they would have to play by the older man’s rules as he stepped forward, taking a seat when the man indicated for him to do so. “So... Um, this is for _The Fortnightly Firedrake_ , the student paper of Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry,” he said softly, and the Quick-Quotes Quill suddenly came alive and proceeded to scratch at the provided parchment in the introduction section. “To what do you owe...?”

“To what do I owe my success?” Master Snape asked, and Harry’s eyes immediately locked with his. “Are you serious?”

Harry nodded awkwardly, knowing that Ron had likely scoured a handful of academic journal interviews, copied the questions, and called it quits. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“I’ve always been successful at reading people’s needs,” Master Snape replied, and the quill sprang into action, copying down his every word, as the man got to his feet again and began to pace the office. “Once I read and assess their needs, and after having a short conversation with them, I’m able to deduce what it is they truly need from a potion. It doesn’t hurt that I am also a Legilimens, so I am also able to see into their inner thoughts and other memories, if they have a need, and are unable to explain it.”

Harry thought that that answered the question perfectly, and so he decided he’d better move on, knowing that Ron would expect as much information as possible. “You’ve donated to many charitable organizations, both in and outside the Wizarding World,” he said softly. “Could you explain why that is?”

“I am a Half-Blood,” Master Snape informed him. “Despite the fact that I myself had a less-than-perfect childhood, I would hate to see my circumstances duplicated in other families, families with other innocent children. I donate to Muggle and Wizarding World causes because there are issues within families in both worlds. To simply donate to the Wizarding World, despite all it has given me, would be turning my back upon my past. That is not something I would ever do, in any situation, whatsoever.”

“You’ve done very well in potions,” Harry continued, “but that’s mainly what you’re known for within the Wizarding World. What do your other hobbies entail?”

Master Snape arched an eyebrow. “I’m proficient within the Dark Arts, which is why I received a Master’s in that subject as well,” he told Harry. “Other areas in which I excelled academically were, unsurprisingly, herbology and charms, given that they are both necessary in order to be a competent potions master. As for hobbies, things that one does outside of work...” He smiled darkly then. “My tastes are very...singular.”

Harry was about to speak, unsure if he was going to ask what Master Snape’s tastes were, or if he was going to continue asking interview questions, when the door opened behind him.

“Master Snape,” came the sound of Penelope’s voice, “your potion...”

“You finish it,” Master Snape said, never taking his eyes from Harry, and continued staring at him, long after the door closed. “Continue,” he said quietly.

“Are you gay?” Harry asked, before he could stop himself, and silently cursed Ron for prying so deeply into an academic’s private life.

Master Snape chuckled then at the unexpectedness of the question, and Harry’s eyes snapped to meet his, wondering how he could possibly allow that delicious sound to be directed at him until the end of time. “Yes, Mr. Potter,” he said, and the way he said Harry’s name made his skin prickle and his insides squirm. “I am gay. I don’t normally discuss such things, but I find that young adults can be impertinent at the best of times...”

“I... I didn’t write the questions,” Harry said, stumbling over his words. “I’m not even involved with the school newspaper...”

“Is that so?” Master Snape asked, perching upon the edge of his desk now, his dark eyes never leaving Harry’s green ones. “If that’s the case, I would like to know more about you...”

“There’s not much to know about me,” Harry said, a small chuckle escaping from his lips before he could call it back. “I mean, look at me...”

“I am,” Master Snape replied, his eyes locking with Harry’s. “We have a great internship program here for graduates of all major Wizarding Universities...”

Harry shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t fit inside some place like this... I’m hardly a tall, statuesque blonde, never mind female...”

A smirk pulled as Master Snape’s thin lips. “If you don’t write for the student newspaper, what is it you do, then?”

“Read,” Harry said softly, lowering his eyes, feeling his cheeks flame when Master Snape slipped into the seat beside him. “I’m studying English literature at Flarmerth.”

“And what made you decide on that for a degree?” he asked, not condescending in any way, and sounding merely curious.

Harry swallowed. “In all honesty, it seemed like something that I could actually accomplish,” he said quietly. “My father was an Auror, before he was killed, and I always thought that it was expected of me to follow in his footsteps...”

“But you didn’t?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I had plenty of offers—Minister Shacklebolt asked me more than once to join the academy, because of my defense NEWTs, but I found that it just wasn’t what I wanted in the end...”

“And so, English literature?” Master Severus queried.

Harry smiled. “Yeah, I suppose so...”

“Tell me, was it Conan Doyle, Orwell, or Dickens that tapped into your psyche just enough to make you want to pursue the degree?” Master Snape asked.

Harry smiled then; nobody had ever asked him such a question, and it warmed him to have it posed to him by this man, despite the fact that he was a virtual stranger. “Dickens,” he said quietly, and kept his smile.

“I would have thought that _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ would have intrigued you,” said Master Snape, a smile playing at his lips.

“It was Dickens’ _Oliver Twist_ ,” Harry said, naming his favorite book. “I read it when I was fifteen, after I found it buried in my godfather’s possessions after he passed away. All I wanted to do was cry in those days, because, after my parents died, and he died, too, I thought I didn’t have anyone, despite friends and family all around me, really. I really identified with Oliver, who overcame the misfortunes dealt to him, and found my happy ending, for the moment, with him, and with Dickens,” he said softly.

“Misfortunes do not define us, Mr. Potter,” Master Snape said, and Harry realized for the first time that the Quick-Quotes Quill had stopped recording their conversation a long time ago. “It seems as though we have to pave our way for some time, before our true path comes and, quite literally, finds us.”

Harry smiled at Master Snape. “That is a lovely thought, sir...”

“Do you have more questions?”

Harry shook his head without even looking at the paper, and closed it inside the folder. “No, sir, I don’t,” he responded.

“Then, please permit me to walk you to the Floo,” he said.

Harry nodded, getting to his feet and waiting for Master Snape to open the door. He followed him down the corridor and back towards the Floo, relieved that everyone seemed to be going about their business and not staring at the two of them. He told himself that he shouldn’t feel special, and that Master Snape likely walked all of his clientele, or interviewers, back to the Floo Network, once their time was over.

“I hope the interview was satisfactory,” Master Snape put in.

Harry looked over his shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips. “Yes. I’m sure Ron will be very happy with it, sir.”

“Good,” Master Snape replied, taking up the vessel which held the Floo Powder, and Harry was perplexed at the runes which adorned it, but didn’t think to ask what they meant.

Harry reached out then, taking the proper handful, and moved to stand within the grate before the man, his eyes never leaving his.

“Harry,” said Severus.

“Severus,” replied Harry, and dropped the powder, calling for Potter-Weasley Flat. He was dumped into the sitting room, and Ron looked up at his entrance with a smile on his face. Harry stuck his tongue out at Ron and casted _Scourgify_.

“How did it go, then?” Ron asked.

Harry dumped the folder into Ron’s lap and removed his robes, banishing them into his bedroom, and knowing that Dobby or Kreacher would see to the laundry at some point. “It was eventful,” he replied, slipping into an easy chair, and smiling when Hedwig swooped in from an early-evening hunt, and demanded attention.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” Ron said, pouting slightly as he turned to face Harry, “and just tell me straight-out. What was he like?”

Harry scoffed, burying his fingers into Hedwig’s snowy feathers, feeling relieved when she cooed at his touch. “He’s definitely passionate about potions...” He said lamely, suddenly realizing that they’d barely discussed them at all.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Skeeter could tell you that,” he said, giving Harry a look which could easily curdle milk. “Come _on_! Give me something here, mate!”

Harry sighed, leaning back into the chair as Hedwig flew off, obviously wanting to go and find an owl treat of some kind. “He was polite, intense, smart... He was really intimidating,” he said softly, remembering the sensation of the man’s black eyes upon him.

Ron grinned, opening the folder and finding the last question Harry had asked him. “Well, it looks like you may have a shot, then, mate,” he said.

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Well, everyone who knows him says he’s single, and he’s just admitted to being gay,” Ron said gleefully, still grinning at Harry.

Harry shook his head and got to his feet; despite having both Dobby and Kreacher, he liked to spend his time cooking, as it was a distraction. He went into the kitchen, Ron as his heels, and watched as he plunked himself down at the kitchen table, going over the interview. Harry shook his head and looked inside the cold box; Dobby had obviously gone shopping. “How does lasagna sound?” Harry asked.

Ron looked up and grinned. “It’s always amazing when you do it, mate, because you do it up right, almost as good as Mum’s,” he reported.

Harry sighed, gathering the ingredients together and proceeding to cook the meat and chop up the vegetables. However, even as he fell into the routine of making one of Ron’s favorite meals, all he could think of was Severus’s eyes upon him. How they were never-ending black pools, and how he had posed such questions about him, and how Harry had willingly answered. It usually took so long for Harry to open up to anyone, and it had been the same even when he had met the Weasleys yearly, before going to live with them. How could he have been so open with a stranger, let alone someone who was an expert in his field?

Biting his lips between his teeth and shaking his head, he did his best to focus on the cooking. He decided that, before Remus and Tonks dropped Teddy off, that he would have some words with them about Severus. Remus had gone to school with him, after all, and Tonks, as an Auror, would presumably know plenty about someone so well-known. Shaking his head, he pushed his mind back onto cooking, knowing just how ornery Ron could get when he was hungry.


	2. The Right Side of the Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry chapter two took so long! I was busy with outlining this story, the sequel, and the third part, and then I realized that it had taken forever. And then when it came time to write this chapter, I didn’t realize how long it would be. Hopefully, now that I have the entire trilogy outlined, I’ll be able to post more regularly. Love you all!

Harry found his mind constantly drifting to Severus over the course of the next week, while he did his best to keep his down in his various university classes. The final examinations were coming up, and he knew that his standing within the graduating class depended solely upon his final marks. For now, in the lead up to the exams, his various professors used the class time as review periods, with little essays or other assignments in between, to ensure that the students were kept on their toes.

Harry arrived home the Friday after his final class, getting into the flat via Floo and casting a _Scourgify_ upon himself. Looking up, he spotted Hedwig, hooting from her perch on the opposite side of the sitting room, and smelled something delicious coming from the kitchen. Rounding the bend, he saw Ron, looking over _The Evening Prophet_ , and Hermione, puttering about the kitchen and tossing a green salad.

“Evening,” Harry said, waving to Ron and crossing over to Hermione, placing his arms around her waist from behind and kissing her cheek. “What’s the occasion? Or am I interrupting something?” he asked, knowing that his friends could want to be alone.

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” Hermione tutted, finishing her tossing and turning around, holding Harry in a proper hug before she pulled back to smile at him. “Of course this dinner is for the three of us. Two more weeks, and then we graduate. It could be one of our last chances to get together, especially because of studying and commencement duties. Not to mention that you’ll likely have your hands full with Teddy this week,” she said diplomatically, and handed Harry the salad bowl to place on the table.

“She’s right, mate,” Ron said, looking up from the paper and eyeing the salad with hunger as Hermione bent to inspect a whole chicken from inside the oven, which was surrounded by handfuls of potatoes. “But we are all headed to The Leaky on graduation night, right?” he asked, peering around Harry to get a good look at the chicken.

Hermione nodded, shutting the oven. “Yes,” she replied. “Luna’s confirmed, obviously, even though she’s not due to graduate for another year,” she said with a smile.

“Dean’s coming, along with Seamus,” Ron confirmed, as the three still ran within the same circles at university. “Ginny’s still on tour with the Harpies, and doesn’t know if she can get a break in time, but we’ll see.”

“Neville’s said he’ll be there,” Harry told them, slipping into his customary chair at the table. “I took that herbology class at Hermione’s recommendation, just for something to do, and Neville helped me with some of the projects throughout term. He’s looking forward to finishing up the term, as Sprout’s already assigned him to be her apprentice.”

“It’s so wonderful that Neville has a plan,” Hermione commented, leaning up against the counter and observing her boyfriend and best friend.

Harry sighed, leaning against the wooden back of the chair. “I’m sorry that I’m the only one who doesn’t have a plan, ‘Mione,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry that I’m not going to the Auror Academy with Ron when all of this is over...”

“I just don’t want you to be sitting at Grimmauld, or wherever it is you decide to live, once you graduate, doing nothing,” she said softly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I might hang onto the flat a bit longer, I don’t know what my plans are,” he said quietly. “And besides, I have that meeting with the goblins at Gringotts once I do end up graduating, to let me know about all the fortunes and properties...”

Ron looked up from where he’d been staring at the salad. “Still want us to go with you, mate?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” he replied. “Hermione knows much more about this stuff than I do, anyway, and always manages to charm the goblins...”

Hermione allowed herself to be taken in by Harry’s compliment. “Considering I’m getting a degree in Wizarding Law, it makes sense that you would want me there,” she said primly. “I am looking forward to seeing what’s in your vault, Harry...”

“And, like I told you before, you can borrow or have all the books you want,” Harry told her, and caught Ron staring at him with a begging expression. “And yeah, Ron. If there’s a weapon that you want, or some kind of ancient racing broom, and I have no use for either of them, you may have them as well.”

Ron grinned, reaching across the space between them and squeezing Harry’s shoulder. “Thanks, mate,” he said happily. “And don’t you worry about a position. Fred and George say that you can come and help out at the Wheezes anytime you want.”

“Pity that they had to wait for your Aunt Muriel to die before they started up the shop,” said Hermione, checking on the chicken and potatoes again before summoning the pot holders and taking it out.

Ron smirked, trying not to chuckle. “Nobody liked the old gossip anyway, Hermione. And besides, if her rude comments at the wedding were anything to go by...”

“It was hardly Ginny’s fault that Fleur put her in that bridesmaid dress,” Hermione said, shaking her head at the memory. “Besides, Ginny looked lovely, Fleur’s fashion sense aside, and was of a good age to wear something like that...”

“Even I thought she looked nice, and I’m completely bent,” Harry observed, remembering how the dress had hugged Ginny’s soft curves in all the right spots. “It was Dean you really had to worry about on that day...”

“Yeah,” Ron said, his ears turning red at the memory. “He’s a good bloke, but...”

“But _what_ , Ronald?” Hermione asked, fixing him with her brown eyes as she placed the chicken and potatoes onto a platter. “Tell us what you’re going to say.”

“He was running his hands all over my sister!” Ron cried out, watching avidly as Hermione levitated the platter over to the table. “What was I supposed to think?”

Hermione clicked her tongue, watching as Harry pulled the platter over to him and began to carve the chicken the Muggle way. “They’ve been a couple for nearly six years,” she said in a soft voice, obviously wanting to avoid confrontation.

“What does that mean?” Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It means... It means don’t be surprised if Ginny comes home one Christmas with a ring on her finger and a date,” she said softly.

Ron turned white this time, barely noticing as Harry began levitating pieces of chicken and potatoes onto their respective plates. “You’re not saying...?”

“I’m saying that it’s only a possibility, Ronald,” Hermione told him impatiently. “After you’ve been in a relationship for some time, it’s only fair to have a discussion about one’s future, so as you don’t feel as if you’re wasting your time.”

“Hermione...” Ron said softly, looking uncomfortable, and turned to Harry, obviously begging his best friend for help.

Harry was about to speak when the Floo flared, and he immediately got to his feet, thankful to be saved by whomever was calling. Peering into the flames, he made out Remus’s face, and smiled at his godfather. “Hey, Remus,” he said.

“Harry,” Remus said, looking slightly harried, but nevertheless smiled through the flames. “It’s time. Tonks has gone into labor.”

Harry nodded, straightening up. “All right,” he replied.

“We’ve contacted St. Mungo’s, and we’re about to utilize the Portkey,” Remus explained. “I wanted to send Teddy through to you directly, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” Harry said with a nod. “Hermione’s made dinner—salad, roast chicken, and potatoes. Can Teddy have some?”

“Absolutely,” Remus said, appearing to be visibly relieved. Turning, he grabbed at something, and Harry heard a giggle, and then his arms were filled with four-year-old, and Teddy nuzzled into his embrace. “We’ll keep you informed, Harry,” Remus said quietly, before Teddy’s small trunk was handed through, and the connection was severed.

“Well, little man,” Harry said, looking down fondly at his godson. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, Uncle Harry,” Teddy said brightly.

Harry banished Teddy’s trunk into his bedroom and kissed the child’s forehead, before carrying him into the kitchen. “We’ve got company,” he sang, not wanting Ron or Hermione to say anything inappropriate in front of him.

“Oh, Teddy!” Hermione said, getting to her feet, and smiling indulgently as Teddy held out his pudgy arms towards her, while Ron summoned a plate and layered a good-sized helping for the child.

Harry, pleased that Hermione was temporarily seeing to Teddy, summoned the booster seat from the corner, and placed it onto a spare chair. “Come on, Teddy. Up you get into your throne,” he said, and Teddy giggled, dropping himself steadily from Hermione’s arms and dashing over, climbing up himself and waiting for Harry to see to the fasteners.

“Are you excited for your sister, Teddy?” Ron asked, pushing the child-friendly plate and utensils over to him, and Teddy lifted the latter.

“Yeah!” Teddy said, practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “Mummy and Daddy say her name is gonna be ‘Hope’, after Daddy’s mummy,” he explained.

“Isn’t that lovely?” Hermione said, slipping into her chair again, and watched from the corner of her eye as Harry returned to his.

The rest of dinner was a normal affair, with Harry charming the dishes to wash themselves afterwards before whisking Teddy away for his bath. Ron was seeing Hermione back to her flat, and Harry took that to mean that he would be staying there overnight. He entertained his godson by conjuring creatures from the bubble bath, letting Teddy pick and choose what he wanted to see next. Harry then wrapped up Teddy in a fluffy towel and drained the bath before taking him to his bedroom, where the bed that had been shrunken down in his belongings was already ready for him beside Harry’s bed. Harry found _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ within the suitcase, and read Teddy about Babbity Rabbity, the Four Brothers, and was about to read about the Hopping Pot when Teddy’s eyes grew heavy and he fell into sleep.

Bending down, Harry pressed a kiss to his forehead and dimmed the light in his bedroom, before putting up a Silencing Charm to make sure that any noise he inadvertently made didn’t end up waking the child. Smiling to himself, he walked out of the room and cracked the door before heading down the hallway and into the sitting room. Hedwig flew in from the window, cooing softly to her master, obviously pleased after a nights’ hunting. Harry smiled at his familiar as he sat in his favorite easy chair, seeing that Ron had left his messenger bag upon the ground.

Shaking his head and thinking that he was turning more and more into Hermione each day, Harry bent down and proceeded to at least attempt to put it upright. However, Harry quickly noticed how disorganized the bag was and he rolled his eyes, knowing that Ron wouldn’t ever make it in the Auror Academy if he messed up the filing system on cases. Resolving to remedy the matter, Harry set to work on organizing the bag, knowing that he would likely pay for it later, when Ron would claim that he couldn’t find anything.

As he organized the various parchments for Ron’s classes—which mainly were in the combat division of the university, given his career choice—Harry was perplexed when he stumbled upon an orange piece of parchment that didn’t look familiar. Picking it up and inspecting it further, he saw that it was a formal announcement for who would be the guest speaker at graduation. Harry felt his mouth drop open in a dramatic fashion then, for the speaker was none other than Master Severus Snape himself. Seeing the photograph, the man appeared to be annoyed at having a wizarding camera in his face, and momentarily sneered into the lens, before returning to whatever potion he had been brewing.

Harry slowly reached out then, tracing the photograph with his finger, and bit down hard on his lower lip as the pair of black eyes peered up at him. It took Harry aback to see how the expression had changed, once the man realized that it was Harry, and not a photographer from _The Daily Prophet_ hungrily snapping photos of him, which would likely have his kids in wizarding textbooks for Hogwarts for years. Slowly lowering the piece of parchment, and determined to forget, another piece of parchment stuck out of him inside Ron’s bag, this one an nondescript cream-color, which Harry also lifted, and his Adam’s apple quickly bobbed within his throat when he realized that it was a letter.

_Mr. Weasley,_

_Although I am quite a busy man, and I should take offense to you writing me at all when you stood me up for our meeting seven days previous, it allowed me to make the acquaintance of your roommate, Mr. Potter._

Harry felt his cheeks flush at the notion that Master Snape had remembered him.

_As such, given the apparent company you keep, I cannot in all good conscience refuse what you have asked of me. You have also posed the question in a polite manner and, although I have never been one for photographs, I understand how important final issues of papers are. Given that its readers in question are still young and predisposed to the notion that the latest technology, whether it be wizarding or Muggle, takes precedence._

_I will formally submit to a “photo-op”, as you have so colloquially called it. I am free the afternoon of June the twenty-second, between the hours of eleven and three. As you have indicated to me that the term will end precisely at six on the thirty-first, and the final issue of_ The Fortnightly Firedrake _is to be released at midnight on the twenty-seventh, I believe that nearly a week will perfectly fit into your plans._

_May I suggest The Potions Guild Trophy Room, off The Atrium, at the Ministry of Magic for this splendid “photo-op”? As a member of the organization myself, and having many friends, acquaintances, and colleagues within the department—many of whom owe me a favor or three—I think that securing said location for the day in question, for the hours I am available to you, will be sufficient. I would be glad to also pose for the trophies I have been awarded for the guild, and would be willing to bring in any trophies, ribbons, or other awards I have gotten in my field as potions master._

_Please let me know if the time, location, and everything else is all right with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape, Potions Master_

_Post Script – I would also be amenable to Mr. Potter attending this “photo-op”, if he is available, and if he is willing to do so._

Harry lowered the piece of parchment; it had been dated two days after he had met Master Snape, and he was slightly irritated that, not only had Ron not told him about the event in question, but he had not extended the invitation. Shaking his head, he knew he had several options available to him. One, he could write a strongly-worded letter to Ron, which he would have Hedwig send to Hermione’s flat, demanding to know why Ron had kept the information from him. Two, he could do nothing. And three, he could write to Master Snape himself, and personally inform him that he would love to attend the photo-op.

Shaking his head, a fourth option came to him: To confront Ron in the morning, and consequently hand over childcare duties of Teddy to him. Smirking, Harry nodded his head, and finished clearing up the mess within Ron’s bag, tutting to himself as he did so. Once the mess was tidied up, he summoned his own bag over to him, and proceeded to go over the detailed notes from his own courses, not wanting to fall behind due to final exams.

~*~

After confronting Ron about the letter from Master Snape, and leaving him alone to feed Teddy his lunch for twenty minutes, Ron agreed that he had been a prat about the entire thing. Harry smirked and helped Ron in getting Teddy to eat his fish fingers and mushy peas, and Teddy couldn’t have been happier with the food placed in front of him. Harry then took Teddy into the loo to wash up, while the Floo flared and Ron took the call.

“Yes, we’re eating enough, Mum,” Ron said, his voice filled with irritation as Harry stepped back into the sitting room with a now-spotless Teddy in his arms. “Oh, yeah. Tonks went into labor last night and Teddy’s here...”

“Grandma Molly?!” Teddy squealed, hopping down from Harry’s arms and dashing towards the Floo, and kneeling beside Ron, who automatically carded his fingers through Teddy’s hair in a moment of uncle-like pride.

“Teddy, darling!” Molly cooed through the Floo. “How are you?”

“Fine!” Teddy called back. “But, I miss you...”

“Well, I was just inviting you all to supper tonight at the Burrow,” Molly replied, looking as pleased as punch as Harry couched down beside Ron. “Oh, hello, Harry dear.”

“Hi, Molly,” Harry replied.

“Mum, I already told you, you don’t have to—” Ron tried.

“Are you making the strawberry trifle, and the Toad in the Hole?” Teddy asked, practically bouncing on his heels in excitement.

Molly’s face broke out in a grin at the childish enthusiasm. “As a matter of fact, I was, Teddy darling. As you well know, it’s Victoire’s favorite as well.”

Teddy flushed slightly then. “Is Victoire coming?” he asked quietly.

“She is, along with Bill, Fleur, and Dominique,” Molly replied, not having to mention the Fleur was already pregnant again, with this child being due sometime after Christmas. “Charlie’s back from Romania for a few weeks, and Fred and George are bringing Alicia and Angelina. Percy can’t come—ministry and all—but Ginny’s got a break in her training and will be there at the Burrow this evening with Dean, of course.”

“Has he proposed to that girl yet?” Ron asked, and Harry found that he was growing tempted to cover Teddy’s ears.

“Ronald Weasley, honestly. That girl, as you call her, has a name. It’s Audrey Fernsby, thank you very much,” Molly informed her youngest son with a huff.

“Fine, fine. Has Percy proposed to Audrey yet?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Molly told him.

Ron shrugged. “It’s just that, ever since he threw over Penelope Clearwater, I’ve been wondering if any girl is good enough for him,” he said softly.

“So that’s where I knew the name from,” Harry said quietly, and Ron turned to look over at Harry in confusion. “She’s a receptionist at Fiole Bureau,” he said quietly.

“Now, boys,” Molly said, and all three turned back to look at her, “supper is to be served promptly at six-thirty, but do feel free to come whenever you like.”

Harry nodded. “Sounds wonderful, Molly. Ron and I were going to take Teddy into Diagon to meet Hermione this afternoon, but we’ll be sure to be there on time.”

“Sounds wonderful, Harry dear,” Molly said with a quick smile. “All right, then. I’ll see you later on this evening,” she said, blowing them each a kiss before the Floo smoldered for a moment, and the connection was broken.

Ron proceeded to get Teddy ready for their trip to Diagon, while Harry checked on Hedwig, who seemed about ready to take a mid-afternoon nap. Once Teddy was ready and Harry and Ron had their trainers on, they utilized the Floo to get to The Leaky Cauldron. Greeting Tom once they had stepped through, Harry hitched Teddy up into his arms as they walked out into the alleyway and around the rubbish bins, and Ron used his wand to tap at the bricks in quick succession, the cobblestone road and the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley appearing before them rather quickly as the bricks regulated themselves to the sides.

Hermione was already browsing inside Flourish and Blotts, and Teddy immediately flew towards her and threw his arms around her legs. Hermione giggled at the child’s enthusiasm and wrapped her arms around him automatically. Carding her fingers through his hair, she looked up as Harry and Ron approached, returning Ron’s kiss and giving Harry a hug. Ron then took Teddy into the Quidditch section, and Hermione snuggled beneath Harry’s arm, which had found itself thrown around her shoulders.

“Has Teddy been behaving himself?” she asked, watching in an indulgent manner as Ron lifted Teddy upwards to see the figurines of famous Quidditch players, plus a Quaffle, Bludger, and a Golden Snitch, as well as a Golden Snidget, and a brief description upon the animal which had previously been used as the Seeker’s coveted golden orb. “It must be quite an experience, with him being a big brother and all...”

“He says he’s excited about it, and I’m inclined to believe him,” Harry told her. “Remus, of course, will be staying at home with him all the time now, and newborns do tend to sleep a lot. I’m sure he’ll still have plenty of time with him.”

“And Tonks? She’s taking some time off from the ministry, isn’t she?”

“I should think so,” Harry said, grinning. “Remus said something about Kingsley and Moody arranging for an excellent maternity package for her.”

“We haven’t talked much since you had the interview with Master Snape,” Hermione said, and pulled Harry across the store into the ancient runes section. “Ron’s always been there, and you know how Neville gets when it comes to any discussion about potions.”

Harry nodded; he did know, and very well. For all Neville’s goodness when it came to herbology, he was pretty helpless when it came to potions, despite the fact that Slughorn seemed so patient with him. As Harry recalled, and he seemed to do so correctly, Neville had frequently been uneasy around Slughorn, and Harry could never put his finger on why his shy friend would be so distant with such an affable man.

“It went really well, inasmuch as an interview where I’d only just got the questions could,” Harry told her, and Hermione nodded, temporarily distracted by the tomes in front of her. “I mean, you did look at the questions Ron wanted to ask, right?”

“Of course,” Hermione said, peering closer at the shelf, and looked longingly at a tome, which was titled, _Manual M39h-z_. “It’s all about Rune-Sign Language, and it’s almost never in print in such an open setting like this,” she mused, before she made a grab for it, and tucked it underneath her arm, before she turned and looked at Harry. “Why are you sounding so worried about Ron’s questions?”

Harry bit his lip. “Well, one was highly personal...”

“It was an interview for a university paper’s publication, Harry,” Hermione told him carefully. “I mean, I would think that personal questions were allowed... I think I remember Ron asking what his favorite Quidditch team was. Was it that?”

“No,” Harry told her, shaking his head. “Ron asked if the man was gay.”

“Ron must’ve replaced the questions,” Hermione said, gritting her teeth. “Cormac’s always on him about treading too lightly in his interviews, and Ron likely was tired of...” She shook her head, peering around the shelf to where Ron and Teddy were looking at the fiftieth anniversary edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ by Kennilworthy Whisp. “Please tell me that you didn’t ask Master Snape if he was...”

“I couldn’t help it!” Harry told her, throwing up his hands as he attempted to plead his innocence, his green eyes flashing with momentary irritation. “Ron told me to ask all the questions, no exceptions...”

“Oh, dear,” Hermione said, leaning up against the shelf, the ancient runes text still clutched in her arms. “You read it as you asked it, didn’t you?”

Harry sighed. “Yes,” he admitted.

“But Ron said the interview went well, and that Master Snape answered all the questions that you put forth...” Hermione stared at Harry then, her brown eyes widening. “He told you what his sexual orientation was?”

Harry nodded. “Of course. It was one of the questions.”

“Not even _Witch Weekly_ could get that kind of answer out of him, and he’s been Most Charming Potioneer since he achieved his mastery and made improvements on the Wolfsbane potion,” she mused, nibbling on her lower lip.

Harry scoffed. “You’re telling me that he’s been pictured beside Lockhart?”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, at least he still knows how to smile,” she mused. “That rumor that everyone cooked up second year, about a Chamber of Secrets in the bowels of the school...” She shook her head. “And the fact that he tried to _Obliviate_ you and Ron, because he was convinced you two had found it first...”

“Thank Merlin Ron’s wand got ruined in the dueling club,” Harry put in. “I’m just glad that Flitwick took over afterwards. He’s a champion, after all.”

“Naturally, as charms master and Head of Ravenclaw,” Hermione told him with a nod. “But in all seriousness, Harry... What did Master Snape tell you?”

Harry flushed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He cast a Silencing Charm around them, so as they were absorbed in a bubble of stillness, and whispered, “He’s gay.”

Hermione grinned. “Is that so?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“So, it seems, my intuition about why he wanted you to be present at the photo-op next week was indeed correct,” she said, nodding her head. “Colin owes me ten Galleons.”

“What?” Harry demanded. “You mean you knew I was invited?”

“Well, yes, but didn’t Ron... Ronald!” Hermione said, throwing her head back in exasperation as she rolled her eyes. “I told him to tell you immediately after he got the letter... Ron then went on about how he was too old for you.”

Harry scoffed. “Please. I’d be lucky to have someone of his caliber interested in me.”

“Of his caliber?” Hermione asked, a slow smile encroaching upon her lips. “Why, Harry. After all this time, I’m delighted to know that you have a type.”

“My type has always been male, Hermione,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Hermione giggled. “Yes. Ever since Ron walked in on you after the World Cup, holding a Quidditch Mag, with Krum as the centerfold...”

“It was _not_ a centerfold!” Harry squawked, going red to his ears. “It just so happened to be an attractive photo accompanied by an article...”

“An article, eh?”

“Yes, an article in which Krum mentioned how much he would like to one day settle down with the perfect _witch_ ,” he said firmly, and Hermione smiled patiently at him. “And don’t make it sound like it wasn’t, ‘Mione. The photograph was very tasteful...”

“We’ve discussed Master Snape at length in all my potions classes at the academia,” Hermione put in, more than happy to change the subject. “He’s a bit of a recluse, however, so while our instructor couldn’t ever get him to come and lecture, we read his essays and studied his improvements to his potions.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, of course. His improvements to _Advanced Potion Making_ have done wonders for the world of potions, but that one note about that spell for enemies...” Visibly, Hermione shuddered. “I can’t imagine anyone actually going through with casting that spell. Creating it, I suppose I can; the Wizarding War was a devastating thing, and if someone’s coming after someone, a child—your child—well, I can see why such a spell could be utilized.”

“Master Severus _did_ mention his penchant for Dark Arts,” Harry admitted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has tomes upon tomes of ancient books, ones that you can no longer get, all on the subject.”

“Many masters of one subject will dabble in another, especially if it is relevant to their main one,” Hermione told him. “I know he’s also very good in the field of herbology.”

“He did mention that, yes,” Harry told her. “But it seems as if potions and the Dark Arts are his favorite subjects.”

Hermione rolled upon the balls of her feet. “I wonder if Headmaster Dumbledore ever offered him a position at Hogwarts...”

“He may have, ‘Mione—Slughorn’s not getting any younger—but, given that there didn’t seem to be anything holding Master Snape back...” Harry spread his hands. “He likely enjoys owning and operating his own potions company.”

“Naturally,” Hermione replied, “if one likes being in control.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You think Master Snape likes being in control?”

Hermione dragged the pads of her fingers down her book. “I’d say it’s a definite possibility,” she replied, shrugging her curved shoulders. “I mean, from what I know, he never lets anyone into his lab, only Slughorn—because he was his mentor, and all. Not to mention the fact that his potions library is said to be legendary, but he has a ‘look but don’t touch’ feel about it.”

“How do you know this?”

“Penelope Clearwater,” Hermione replied. “Before Percy ended things with her, we would chat a lot about my future plans and her current ones. She loves her position, but was told from the very beginning where her domain was, and where Master Snape’s was. She is permitted in the foyer, her desk and its surrounding area, and the staff lounge down the hallway, including all the bathrooms available to staff.”

Harry blinked. “Blimey, the man _does_ like to control things...”

“It’s not too surprising, given the fact that his father, a Muggle, reportedly attempted to beat the magic out of him, and his mother, for years,” she said quietly. “Calmed down considerably when his mother got her inheritance. They even managed to hire someone to put up a Muggle telly in the estate they live in now, in Warwickshire...”

Harry shivered, remembering his days with the Dursleys before he had been able to make his escape and live with the Weasleys. Sighing, he knew that he’d better take Teddy to Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop, Diagon’s equivalent of Honeydukes. Squeezing Hermione’s shoulder, he met her eyes briefly before he crossed the store, seeing that Teddy was clutching ahold of a Golden Snidget plush, and indulgently bought it for him.

Ron was all too pleased to be going to the sweets shop, but Harry also knew that his childlike whimsy would filter into Teddy. Once their shopping was complete, with Teddy boasting some melted chocolate around his lips, Harry Floo’d back with him to the flat, while Ron went to Hermione’s, with a promise to see them for supper at the Burrow. Harry was quick to make sure that Teddy’s face was washed and he was dressed appropriately, before giving him permission to take his new plushy to the Burrow with them, and they Floo’d over directly.

“Oh, Harry, dear!” Molly said, bustling out of the kitchen and enfolding him in her arms. “And Teddy, love—you’re just getting bigger and bigger the more I see you!” she cooed. “Well, Bill and Fleur are outside with Victoire and Dominique, young man, so, if you like, you can go out and play.”

“May I, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked.

Harry smiled at him, and lowered his godson to the ground. “Of course, Teddy. You can show them your new plushy. Do you have a name for it yet?”

“Órla,” Teddy told him, before dashing out the kitchen door of the Burrow, and Harry recalled a story from Tonks’ father’s childhood, of Celtic origin, about a golden princess.

“Come along, Harry dear,” Molly said, wrapping her arm around Harry’s shoulders and bringing him into the kitchen. “The twins are working late at the shop with Alicia and Angelina, and Charlie is upstairs resting.”

“Long trip back?” Harry asked, smiling ruefully as Molly waved him to sit down, and bustled about the kitchen to make him a cup of tea.

“The International Floo Network was backed, likely because of various graduation programs and ceremonies happening around the same time,” Molly explained, swishing her wand about to get her kettle to boil. “Charlie had to stand in the Romanian queue for what seemed like hours, the poor dear. I barely had time to feed him a cheese toastie and a cup of tea before he lumbered upstairs into his childhood bedroom to sleep some of it off...”

“And Arthur?”

“He usually works a bit longer on Fridays, just to make sure that the ministry won’t contact him at the weekend,” Molly said, preparing Harry’s cup. “As for Ginny, she’s meeting Dean after work and they’re heading over to his flat, where he’ll change and set things to rights, before they come over here together.”

Harry bit the insides of his cheeks at the mention of Ginny’s name; as the youngest child and only daughter, she had been quite spoiled growing up and, naturally, she believed that she would one day be with Harry. This was decidedly not the case, given that she was everything Harry did not want in a partner, and she had yet to fully understand that. Harry was grateful for the distraction of Molly’s cup of tea, which was placed in front of him, and he methodically blew on its steaming surface, waiting for it to cool down enough for him to drink.

“And how have you been, Harry dear?” Molly asked, continuing to move around in the kitchen, gathering this and that to put the finishing touches on the Toad in the Hole, before she would be placing it into the oven. “Graduation is just around the corner.”

Harry nodded, knowing that it was an appropriate discussion topic. “Fine, thank you, Molly,” he told her with a smile. “Exams begin on Monday at eight, and Remus assures me that he’ll be collecting Teddy beforehand.”

“And just know that you can Floo him over if Tonks has any complications,” Molly told him, tossing a smile at him from over her shoulder. “You’ve put in all this work at the academy that it would be a shame for you to lose it all now.”

Harry affixed a smile onto his lips and took ahold of his mug of tea, blowing on its surface for a moment before bringing it to his lips. “Thank you, Molly,” he said softly.

Ron and Hermione arrived by Floo shortly thereafter, with Ron plunking down beside Harry and helping himself to a cup of tea, while Hermione rolled her eyes and proceeded to help Molly out with supper. Charlie came downstairs around half an hour later, presumably smelling the meal, and Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina popped into the back garden via Apparition a short time later, with Teddy and Victoire running up to them and clamoring for hugs. It was when Arthur came in via Floo from the ministry that Molly summoned the table linens and things into their proper places at the massive table, and Arthur stepped into the kitchen as everything floated to where it needed to be.

“Hello, love,” Arthur said, stepping across the kitchen and kissing Molly on the cheek. He afforded the same greeting to Hermione, and embraced both Harry, Ron, and Charlie before he trekked out to the back garden and greeted everyone else. He visibly brightened as Ginny and Dean arrived via Apparition, and, quite soon, everyone trooped into the kitchen, with Teddy and Victoire moving to a small table on the other side of the room, while the adults claimed the larger table.

“Allô, ‘Arry,” Fleur said, bending down and kissing him on both cheeks, and Harry smiled in greeting, while Ron looked positively wretched at the exchange, and Hermione kicked him from underneath the table.

Molly then opened the oven with magic as she pulled the pot holders, decorated with golden snitches that danced, that Fred and George had bought her one Christmas, and advanced upon the cooking vessel. Lifting the massive Toad in the Hole from the oven, Arthur led in the applause, with Teddy and Victoire cheering from the other side of the room, as Molly stepped forward and placed the casserole dish in the center of the table. As Arthur began cutting it up and levitating generous portions to everyone at the table, Molly produced a second, smaller casserole from the oven, equipped with Child-Safety Charms, and placed it upon the table that Teddy and Victoire were currently sharing. After slicing it accordingly and placing it onto their plates, she made sure that they both had their fill of pumpkin juice before she made her way over to the table and sat down at its foot.

“How are things at the shop, boys?” Arthur asked, cutting into the Toad in the Hole with the side of his fork and bringing it to his mouth.

“Great, Dad,” Fred said. “It certainly helps to have a star Quidditch player on the payroll,” he said, looking at Alicia with love.

Alicia rolled her eyes, but nevertheless pressed a kiss to Fred’s cheek. “The Montrose Magpies are extremely generous when it comes to our downtime,” she explained. “I love being a Chaser, naturally, but I’m quite sure that they’ll want me to retire eventually.”

“Angelina will fix you up, no problem,” George informed her, and Angelina rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her boyfriend.

“This is the first day off I’ve had from St. Mungo’s in over three weeks,” Angelina explained, and Harry noticed that her shoulders visibly slackened as she said this. “Spell damage is a fascinating subject, to be sure, but I am quite pleased to have this weekend time for all of you, and George and I are seeing my family for the weekend.”

“And Bill, the bank?” Molly asked, after she had finished a bite of her dinner. “Please tell me that the goblins aren’t running wild...”

“Certainly not, Mum,” Bill said, grimacing slightly at his mother’s choice of words. “They are thinking of sending me to Ireland before the year is out...”

“Any particular reason, Bill?” Arthur asked.

“Some additional training,” Bill explained. “They’re sending me to their affiliates in Cork, and, from there, if all goes well, I’ll be made chief of my unit...”

“Oh, Bill!” Molly cried out, dropping her fork and clutching at her mouth. “Oh, darling, that’s simply marvelous news!”

“We are very ‘appy for zhe development,” Fleur said, trailing her long fingers down her husband’s arm, while holding Dominique in her free one. “Bill loves ‘is work very much, and I would never take zhat away from ‘im.”

“Tell us about the preserve, Charlie,” Ron said quickly, likely growing uncomfortable with the display of his brother’s happy marriage in front of him. “Any new hatchlings?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Charlie responded with a smile. “We had some Welsh Greens hatch last week,” he said. “Three boys and four girls in the clutch, and they’ve been named Kai, Crisper, Smelter, Iskra, Bedelia, Ember, and Kalinda,” he explained.

Molly nodded along to Charlie’s exposition, before turning back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione with quick smiles for each. “How many exams are you all taking?” she asked.

Ron straightened up then. “For the Combat Degree, you have to achieve high to full marks in a physical exam, a psychological exam, and then a traditional exam,” he explained. “For the physical, they take your height and weight and put you through some trials that are based on real Auror situations. For the psychological, we have to sit down with a mild healer from St. Mungo’s, and they determine if you’re mentally strong enough to go through with the Auror Academy, as well as future active field duty. And, with the traditional exam, you’re tested on how well you know the history of the Ministry of Magic, in particular the Auror Department, how you would approach various cases and such, and then you’re given some mock reports to fill out. It’s all very serious,” he said proudly.

“And you, Hermione dear?” Molly asked.

“I have three exams per day, on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday,” she explained brightly. “I have final exams in ancient runes, History of Magic, transfiguration, charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, arithmancy, Muggle studies, alchemy, and ancient studies,” she explained. “All of these pertain to getting a Degree in Wizarding Law. If all of this goes well, I’ve been accepted as Amelia Bones’ apprentice, and will act as her assistant for the period of one year, until the Wizengamot decides where to place me.”

“How about you, Harry?” Arthur wanted to know, knowing quite well how overbearing his wife had the capability of being, and, if they wanted Harry to tell them anything at all, they would have to be patient.

“It’s a hybrid degree program,” Harry told them softly, “in which they take elements of both publications of the Wizarding World and the Muggle one, and apply them to the courses that I’m taking. For example, in the wizarding branch, I’m taking charms, potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Muggle studies, and ancient studies,” he said. “And, in the Muggle half, it’s Graduate English Studies, a Bachelor’s Thesis course, Honors Classics, English Language and Literature, and History and English,” Harry told them. “Thankfully, the hybrid program entails accommodations wherein I don’t have to go to a Muggle university to take the courses, but they are based on classes one could take at Oxford University, which is reportedly one of the best universities in the Muggle World.”

“Quidditch is going quite well for me,” Ginny broke in then, likely upset that no one had asked her about her tenure with the Holyhead Harpies since she’s arrived. “I know I haven’t played as Chaser as long as Alicia has, of course, and that I understandably have a lot to learn, but it’s such a great experience,” she said persuasively. “As for Dean,” she continued, and Dean lowered his eyes and blushed to his ears, “he’s received yet another commission from the Wizarding Artists’ Guild, which he isn’t due to complete until after the Christmas holidays. Of course, he’s also due to graduate on the same day Harry, Ron, and Hermione are, in case you’d forgotten,” she said, her tone rather heated as she crossed her arms.

“Ginevra, don’t be rude,” Molly scolded. “Harry hardly ever opens up to begin with, so we should all listen to him when he decides to do so.”

“Molly, it’s all right...” Harry began.

“No, Harry, it’s not all right,” Arthur told him, his voice gentle, before he turned back to regard his only daughter. “We’ve given you a lot over the years, Ginny, but, above all, your mother and I firmly believed in teaching all of you traditional manners. I would hope that we didn’t waste our time in preparing you to enter polite society.”

Ginny suddenly got to her feet, her dishes clattering around her. “I won’t sit here and listen to any of this,” she said, her face as red as her hair. “Come along now, Dean. We’re leaving,” she said, and Dean, knowing full well when he was beaten, promptly got to his feet and followed Ginny out of there.

Harry could vaguely hear Dean attempting to reason with Ginny as they stepped out into the back garden, but Ginny refused to hear any of it. Harry winced then as the _pop_ of Apparition filtered in from the garden and into the kitchen, waves of doubt and guilt ebbing and flowing before they hit Harry at full force. Forcing a smile onto his face, he looked up and around them and said, “Arthur, why don’t you tell us how things at the ministry are?”

~*~

Harry was relieved when he Floo’d over to the cottage in Godric’s Hollow the following afternoon, following Remus’s announcement that he and Tonks had arrived home safely with the new addition. Escorting Teddy, Harry and the eldest child of the Tonks-Lupin family had been formally introduced to Hope Harriet Lupin, and Harry felt himself flushing automatically when he heard her full name. As Tonks fed Baby Hope a bottle, and Teddy leaned over the arm of the easy chair to take in each moment, Harry and Remus drifted into the kitchen to have one of their weekly chats.

“All your studying done for your final examinations this week?” Remus asked, pouring Harry a cup of tea.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. I’ll probably look over the respective notes until the last possible moment, just to make sure I’ve got it all down, but I’m feeling confident.”

“Good, good,” Remus replied with a nod, handing over the tea. “Any other plans? You still going out to The Leaky to celebrate with everyone?”

Harry bit down hard on his lower lip, rolling onto the balls of his feet as he considered telling Remus something else. “Remember how I told you that Ron had a touch of Wizard’s Flu, and I had to fill-in for him for his final interview with _The Fortnightly Firedrake_?” he asked, dragging his teeth over his lower lip.

Remus nodded. “Of course. He is feeling better, isn’t he?”

Harry nodded back. “Oh, yeah. Ron was right as rain in a couple days,” he assured him. “It was who I was interviewing that was...something, I suppose...”

“Who was it, then?” Remus asked. “Someone from the academic world, I presume?” he asked, wetting a sponge in the kitchen sink and proceeding to clean the kitchen counters the Muggle way, which oddly filled Harry with a sense of calm.

“You could say that,” Harry told him, setting down his mug of tea and leaning upon the kitchen island in contemplation. “He actually went to school with you...”

“Hogwarts?” Remus asked, and smirked at Harry’s, _Where else could I possibly be talking about?_ expression. “Well, come to think of it, many people who went through Hogwarts got decent jobs within the Wizarding World... Lucius Malfoy, Amelia Bones...”

“Severus Snape,” Harry said softly, deliberately not looking up at Remus.

Remus dropped the kitchen sponge and whirled around, his eyes filled with shock. “What? That was who Ron had you interview?”

Harry nodded, continuing to stare at the marble pattern of the island. “Yeah,” he said softly, his shoulders immediately hunching inwards.

“Well,” Remus said, his tone soft as he likely mentally told himself to calm down, “how is he doing, then? I know about his company...”

“Fiole Bureau,” Harry put in.

“Yes, that. He was always reading potions or Dark Arts’ texts while we had free time at Hogwarts, and one could even see him having a book on his lap during mealtimes,” Remus went on, shaking his head. “Your father and Sirius hated him.”

Harry’s head snapped upwards then. “He didn’t tell me that!”

Remus smiled. “Likely because he wanted to retain the air of professionalism,” he told him. “I suppose that he was polite... Please tell me that he was.”

“He was,” Harry assured him. “Ron _did_ ask a highly personal question, however, and I was about to die when I inadvertently asked it...”

Remus’s smile broadened then. “You read the question for the first time while asking Severus, didn’t you?” he asked.

Harry scoffed under his breath, dragging his hand through his hair. “Really? Am I that predictable, Remus?” he whined.

Remus chuckled. “Not necessarily ‘predictable’, Harry,” his godfather told him. “It is merely that a select group of people knows you so intimately that we can wager a guess, and likely be correct, as to what you were getting up to, even if we weren’t there.”

“Hermione assumed the same,” Harry muttered.

“Hermione is the brightest witch of her age, as you well know,” Remus put in.

Harry sighed. “He wants to see me again.”

“Who?”

“Master Snape,” Harry replied, biting down on his lower lip again. “Ron asked if he wouldn’t mind partaking in a photo-op at the end of the week so that the final article in _The Fortnightly Firedrake_ can really pop.”

“And Severus accepted?”

“He did.”

“And he truly mentioned wanting to see you again?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. All by owl. He included it in the post script that he wouldn’t be adverse to me attending on the day.”

“Are you going to go?”

“Well, considering I already tore Ron a new one for not informing me of my invitation beforehand, I would say ‘yes’,” Harry replied.

Remus swallowed. “Severus may have changed his ways, Harry, but he is truly a Slytherin through and through...”

“You know as well as I do that the hat wanted to place me in Slytherin...”

“Yes, but it didn’t,” Remus countered. “Anyhow, I won’t tell you not to see Severus anymore, because you’re twenty-one, and I know full well it won’t do any good. However, as your godfather, I will tell you to be careful.” He hesitated. “Can you promise me that, Harry? Will you promise to be careful around Severus?”

Harry looked up at his godfather. “Once Severus exhibits behavior in which being careful is warranted, I promise to act accordingly,” he replied, and Remus smiled, obviously pleased that his thoughts and feelings were being heeded.

~*~

Harry arrived with Ron in the Potions Guild Trophy Room, off the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic, which Master Snape had secured for _The Fortnightly Firedrake_ for a period of two hours to get some decent snapshots of him. He was relieved to have finished his exams, and anticipated passing them with flying colors. Looking around, Harry noticed that there was a scene of a table with crystal-cut beakers, a pretty good replica of Master’s Snape’s office at Fiole Bureau, and, finally, one which Master Snape said accurately depicted his private library of potions and Dark Arts texts. Harry, who had been pulled aside by Master Snape before Colin had begun snapping photos with various Wizarding cameras for the paper, had been asked for tea by the man, and had eagerly accepted.

“Come off it, mate.”

Harry felt his flush blooming deeper, the main sound in the room coming from the flash of Colin’s camera as he worked, and Harry finally permitted himself to tear his eyes away from Master Snape, who cut a stunning figure in formal black robes. “What?”

“You know what,” Ron said, mockingly punching his elbow. “Come off it, I say. Master Snape hasn’t taken his eyes off you throughout the entire shoot.”

Harry found himself absolutely grinning at that fact; now, it was set in stone. “He asked me to have tea with him afterwards...”

“What?” Ron asked, grinning from ear to ear. “You serious? The top potioneer in the country, and likely in Europe itself, wants to go for tea with you?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah...”

“Did you say you’d go?”

Harry lowered his eyes, feeling his cheeks darkening from pink to red. “I said I’d go and have tea with him,” he replied, a chuckle escaping from his lips before he could call it back.

“That’s awesome, mate!” Ron said, squeezing his arm. “Bloody fantastic!”

Harry felt relief when Colin had finally finished up, and Master Snape stepped into what could only be the storage room off the trophy room, and changed into some everyday robes. Harry watched as he stepped out a moment later, and went towards Penelope, who had attended with him, and politely asked her to return the other robes he’d worn to their proper places. Harry pulled at his jumper, hoping that Master Snape wouldn’t mind being seen with him, and felt his flush return as the man stepped towards him.

“Are you ready, Mr. Potter?”

“It’s ‘Harry’, and yes, Master Snape,” he replied.

“Very good, Harry,” he said, a benevolent smirk appearing upon his lips. “Come along, then. We can Floo to our destination in the Atrium.”

Harry gave the man a small smile and nodded, following him out of the room and into the main hub of the Atrium, where Master Snape steered them both over to a fireplace, keeping a firm hand upon the small of Harry’s back. Harry looked up at the man, feeling fire burrowing itself inside of his veins at the man’s mere touch, and wondered how he would possibly be able to do without it, now that he had it.

Master Snape guided them over to a fireplace then, and, retaining his hold upon Harry, whispered, “ _Engorgio_ ,” so as the fireplace could accommodate them both, and the pair of them stepped inside. “Rosa Lee Teabag,” he uttered, naming the tea shop in Diagon Alley, and they were both promptly swallowed up by green flames.

Harry and Master Snape were deposited in what appeared to be a cozy Victorian living room, and an employee of the shop promptly bustled forward and gave them a coveted table beside the window. Harry and Master Snape both thanked her, and they promptly stared at their respective menus. Harry listened to the dulcet tones of Master Snape as he ordered a black tea and a shortbread biscuit, and Harry ordered black tea with milk and sugar, plus a chocolate-dipped shortbread biscuit.

“How did you find the photoshoot, Master Snape?” Harry asked.

Master Snape nodded at him; it was a likely discussion topic. “Your friend—Crispin, was it?—was a very capable photographer.”

“Colin,” Harry told him, grinning back. “Colin Creevey.”

Master Snape’s brow furrowed then. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Colin?” Harry demanded, his insides squirming with discomfort as he considered that. “No. Why would you ask me that?”

“He was smiling at you throughout the session,” Master Snape replied.

Harry promptly shook his head. “No. Colin was a year behind Ron and me at Hogwarts. He’s a Gryffindor, and a Muggleborn, but his younger brother, Dennis, also secured a place at Hogwarts, and in Gryffindor.”

“Ah, so you looked out for him, then. My apologies,” Master Snape said with a bow of his head. “It is rare to see photographers with such enthusiasm. It may be a Muggle trait, as I haven’t found wizarding photographers to be so, although it may just be because they are photographing me.”

Harry tried to stifle his chuckle as the woman who had served them before brought them their tea and biscuits, and they both thanked her again. “You seem to really consider how people think, even if they’re not purchasing potions from you, sir,” Harry observed, stirring milk and sugar into his tea.

“I informed you upon the occasion of our first meeting, Harry, that I have a knack for knowing just what people think,” Master Snape replied, his tone steady. “While I don’t particularly enjoy putting words in people’s mouths, nor do I attempt to form their opinions for them, I myself do know how to read body language and eyes and, failing that, a simple _Legilimens_ fixes any problems I may have.”

Harry felt a smile pulling at his lips then. “It sounds as if you want to know every possibility, every angle, about anyone you may meet.”

“That is an accurate assessment, yes,” Master Snape conceded, blowing on his tea before lifting it up to his lips.

“So, you’re a control freak?” Harry asked.

“I exercise control in all things, Harry,” Master Snape informed him.

Harry shook his head, lowering his eyes and inspecting his shortbread biscuit for a moment, before taking the opportunity to bite into it, chew it, and swallow. “That must get very boring,” he observed softly.

Master Snape observed Harry for a moment, and quickly deduced that, due to the deliberate lack of eye contact, as well as the apparent bravado, that Harry was masking his true feelings. “You seem nervous,” he observed.

Harry slowly raised his eyes towards Master Snape. “I find you intimidating,” he admitted, and hoped that Master Snape wouldn’t mind his candor.

Master Snape, in return, smirked. “You should.” He continued to observe Harry, who had since lowered his shortbread onto its plate. “Eat.”

“Not to mention high-handed,” Harry said softly, not taking his eyes off Master Snape, nor reaching for the biscuit.

“I’m used to getting my own way,” Master Snape replied, his tone honest. He continued staring at Harry for a few moments, before deciding to continue the conversation. “Tell me about your family,” he said softly. “You seemed quite close to young Mr. Weasley...”

“Ron’s my best mate, practically my brother since we’ve been in school,” Harry told him. “My parents died when I was eighteen-months-old, and I was sent to live with my Muggle relatives until I was fifteen, as my mother’s elder sister and her husband were given custody of me. It was during my fifth-year that one of my godfathers was murdered, and Headmaster Dumbledore reevaluate his decision to keep me in the care of my aunt and uncle, due to the fact that they liked to beat and starve me for sport. So, I was sent to live with Ron’s family, and became their unofficial eighth child just before my sixteenth birthday.” He hesitated for a moment. “My other godfather is married, has two small children, a boy and a girl. I have been named godfather of both of them, and their daughter was partially named for me. I know that they were initially worried about going public, due to his debilitating disease, and their age difference, but they seem really happy, and in love.”

“Your parents were murdered when you were a child?”

Harry nodded, lowering his eyes back to his tea. “Yes,” he replied. “Their murderer was caught and was given the veil by the Wizengamot before Christmas of that year. The trial was an open and shut case...”

“Potter,” Master Snape whispered, his tone slightly stoic, and Harry’s eyes promptly snapped to his as he was reminded of his school days. “What’s your middle name?” he asked.

Harry blinked, but nevertheless allowed himself to answer. “It’s ‘James’,” he said softly, and found that he was worried about what was to come. “Tell me, did they really replicate your private library well? I hear that you won’t let anyone inside of it...”

Master Severus sat there for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I cannot...” He began, looking as if he didn’t want to hurt Harry.

“What?” Harry asked, confused.

“I’ll walk you out,” he replied, no emotion in his tone as he got to his feet, momentarily leaving Harry at the table, before he forced his feet to get with the program and move to follow him, feeling utterly confused at the man’s outburst.

Harry followed Master Snape onto the main road of Diagon Alley, trying to keep up with his sweeping steps and growing more apprehensive by the minute. “Was it something I said? Is that it?” he asked.

“It was nothing you said, Harry... It was everything you said,” Master Snape said, hastily correcting himself, shaking his head.

Harry shook his head, unknowing why Master Snape would completely shut him down, even though he now knew his true identity, without so much as a proper explanation. “What does that even...?” he began.

“Watch out!” Master Snape cried out, and grabbed ahold of Harry, yanking him lengthwise across his body, as Harry looked over the man’s shoulder, seeing a young child zooming past upon a training broom, barely looking where he was going. Master Snape shifted then, causing Harry’s eyes to lock with his, and Harry’s breath subsequently caught in his throat as the potions master took ahold of his face gently with his potion-stained fingers, and Harry automatically leaned into the palm of his hand, heart beating erratically, never taking his eyes off him. “I’m not the man for you,” he whispered, and Harry felt his heart lurch unexpectedly then, especially at the finality of the man’s tone, and felt as if his eyes were begging him to change his mind. “You should steer clear of me,” he went on, and Harry found he was more than desperate to stay wrapped in the man’s arms like that. “I have to let you go,” he said at last, and that perfect hand dropped from Harry’s face.

“Goodbye, Master Snape,” Harry managed to get out, hating how his voice was breaking, just as it seemed his heart was, as he turned and headed off towards the Apparition Point.


	3. Mixed Signals

Harry was relieved that his final day of classes was at an end, and he Floo’d back to the flat after the final hour. Harry knew that Ron and Hermione would be celebrating by themselves for a few hours, but he was on schedule to meet them, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and Colin at various Muggle bars before ending their night at The Leaky in Diagon. Ginny had spoken to Dean about her schedule, and she was in training for the next week before The Holyhead Harpies began their series of summer games, topping off with a match against The Kenmare Kestrels in the third week of July and, as such, couldn’t make the evening.

Harry tidied up his things, knowing that he would receive his exam results at the weekend, and that would mean that he would either be graduating or not. Shaking his head and assuring himself that he had nothing to worry about, Harry decided to take a kip before getting ready for the bars that night. He had, after all, put in a significant amount of work the past four years, in order to obtain the Wizarding World’s equivalent of a Bachelor’s Degree, and one nap on a late Friday afternoon certainly wouldn’t ruin things.

As Harry tore off his robes from the academy and kicked the door of his bedroom shut behind him, his mind went over his final conversation with Master Snape just six days before. His eyes became blurry in the semi-darkness of his bedroom as they wetted with tears, and he chastised himself for growing so attached so quickly. Why did Master Snape affect him so, especially after only two meetings? Swallowing the lump that was threatening to develop in his throat, Harry stripped down to his red and gold boxers and slipped into the bed, turning his tear-stained face into the pillow, and tried to sleep.

Around seven, Harry finally managed to drag himself out of bed and into the en suite, where he stripped off his boxers and climbed into the shower. It took a bit longer to adjust the temperature to his liking but, once he did so, he stood beneath the hot stream of water until his skin turned red and the pads of his fingers turned as pruney as his mind. Climbing out and casting a Drying Charm, Harry slipped back into his bedroom and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers—green, which matched his eyes—as well as dark trousers, a white button-down shirt, a green woolen jumper that Molly had made for him for his last birthday, socks from Headmaster Dumbledore, and black shiny dress shoes from Remus and Tonks. Dragging his hand through his hair and losing his battle with attempting to tame it, Harry casted a Cleaning Charm upon his mouth before he stepped out into the living room, wand safely secured in his jumper’s sleeve, and Apparated to an alley in Downtown London.

Stepping out and looking around the warm evening, Harry took the directions that Hermione had given him, given that their first stop this evening was notoriously hard to find. Down another alley with brick walls on all sides, Harry spotted the sign for Ye Olde Mitre Tavern, with its sign reminiscent of an old battle shield. Smiling to himself and stepping forward, Harry let himself in and gave the name _Granger_ , as this was their party name for the night. There were framed historical paintings upon the walls, and Harry could vaguely identify some of them from his primary school days, but was quite sure that Hermione could name them all. There were wooden tables, both round and rectangular, dotting the carpeted floor, and Harry found his party quite soon, tucked away in a back corner.

Thanking the man, and letting him know that he knew where he needed to be, Harry crossed the pub and made his way towards his friends. Ron clapped him on the back immediately, while Hermione promptly embraced him, Luna kissing him lightly upon the cheek, Neville giving him a hearty hug along with Seamus, and Dean squeezing his shoulder. Smiling at them all, Harry let Hermione order for them all, and it appeared as if they were starting with scotch. Harry took the opportunity to look around before their scotch was due to arrive, and noticed that one gilt-framed painting was that of King Henry the Eighth, positioned quite near their table.

Ron and Hermione, plus Luna and Neville, were sharing a bench against the back wall, while Seamus was leaning over the table, spinning a yarn for them all. Dean was leaning back against the wall, taking it all in, and Harry perched upon one of the small, rounded stools which elevated him considerably. Their scotches arrived rather quickly, despite all the hustle and bustle around them, and Hermione held hers up, eying everyone around the table, save Luna, in case they dared to drink before she said her piece.

“Congratulations on graduating!” she said, still holding her tumbler aloft. “May we all be successful in all that we do, and may we get utterly pissed tonight!”

“Here, here!” Seamus said, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Bloody hell, Hermione,” Ron said, grinning at her, before they all threw back the scotch and slammed their glasses onto the table. “Another round?”

“Stout, this time, I think,” Dean observed quietly.

“I’ll get it,” Harry said, getting to his feet, relieved that he wasn’t feeling the alcohol yet. He strode over to the bar, leaning upon it, and waited for the barkeep to look over at him. “Could I please get seven of the Quadrant?” he asked.

“The table in the back, right?” the man asked.

Harry nodded. “That’s right.”

The man gave him a quick smile. “We’ll bring it over to you, no problem.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a grin.

“Why don’t you order a couple of others, keep you busy for a while?” the man suggested, already getting their stout ready.

Harry nodded again; it seemed like a good idea. “What do you recommend?”

“The Seafarers is very good, and I particularly like the London Pride,” the man said quickly, obviously used to the question.

“Well, we’ll have a round of both, then,” Harry told him.

“Celebrating something?”

“We all graduated from university tonight,” Harry explained. “We all attended the same secondary school as well, so we’ve been a group for quite a long time.”

The man nodded. “Well, enjoy yourselves then,” he told them. “We’ll have your drinks brought to you quickly.”

Harry smiled, knowing when he’d been dismissed. “Thanks,” he replied, spinning around and going back to the table.

“Harry!” Ron said, dipping his hand in a bowl of pretzels. “Where’d you go, mate?”

“Just ordering us a couple rounds,” Harry told him, slipping back onto the stool. “The bartender recommended we order a couple.”

“Wise thinking,” Seamus said with a nod.

“But not too many, right, Harry?” Hermione asked. “We want to hit a couple more places before we get to The Leaky...”

“Just three more for each of us,” Harry told her.

Hermione nodded. “A perfectly acceptable number,” she said primly. “We’re going to The Blackfriar after this and, even though it’s only two and a half kilometers from here, we’ll still want to be in a good mental place to Apparate.”

Everyone around the table was plenty buzzed after the three more drinks, and Hermione suggested that they pay the tab and go, for it was getting on ten o’clock. Everyone agreed and coughed up some Muggle money before leaving, finding the alleyway that Harry had Apparated into before. Hermione told everyone the coordinates for The Blackfriar and, with a series of pops, they vanished.

The Blackfriar was on a far busier street than Ye Olde Mitre Tavern had been, and so they’d had to find another alley to pop into. They all did rather quickly, however, and were soon going down the street to get into the other pub. Inside was beautiful, with a ceiling evocative of an old church, with highly-polished wooden tables and mismatched chairs. There were mirrors lining the walls and a red bench in the back, and they were all seated at a table relatively quickly, with Hermione requesting a tumbler of Copper Dog for each of them.

“This place has an extensive whiskey menu,” she explained after the waiter left. “I figure we can sample a fair few of them, if no one objects...”

“None from me,” Neville said, who was handling his liquor quite well. “I’ve always had a taste for it, myself.”

Harry found he was quite fond of the Copper Dog, and agreed with the assessment that it boasted a hint of honey and spice. Next, they tried something from the “sweet whiskey” menu, with Ron selecting one called Glenfiddich Fire & Cane, which was rumored to taste like soft smoke and a sweet baked apple, with Ron saying it reminded him of a boozier version of one of his mum’s desserts, to which Hermione laughed. Seamus selected the next one, this time from the “smoky whiskey” section, and went with one called Talisker Skye, which matched its description of tasting like it was “full of character” quite well. Finally, Dean selected the final one, this time from the “spicy whiskey” tariff, and chose Woodford Reserve, for he claimed to like the description of a “crisp, clean finish”.

Luna, who had done some research of her own, had selected The Dove in Hammersmith as their third and final stop before The Leaky. She had heard about their wine list, and had wanted to try some Muggle wine, and everyone in their little group seemed game. Visiting the pub earlier, she had obtained a copy of their menu and had ordered ahead, creating what she called a “wine tasting menu”, and Neville, in particular, seemed more than a little proud of his girlfriend’s initiative to do so. They Apparated straight there, once their bill at The Blackfriar was sorted, and stepped right in, and were guided to a rectangular-shaped table by the window.

Harry noticed how different this pub was; it had a far more homey feel to it, with a brick-laid fireplace and black and white photographs along the walls in sort of a hodgepodge or patchwork pattern. It was here that Colin joined them, for Colin had been working late on making sure that the photographs of Master Snape were “absolutely stunning”. Harry just waited for the first of the wine to be brought, and tried not to think about where Colin had been, or what he had been doing while he’d been gone.

“This is a Furleigh Estate Rose from Dorset,” Luna explained as their first glasses arrived, of the sparkling wine variety. She sipped it, and informed them all that it was rumored to have a bright red fruitiness about it, and everyone agreed. The second glasses came out, this time of the white range, while the first were cleared away, and Luna spoke up again. “I selected the Singing Gruner Veltliner, from Austria, as our second, because of its apparent delicate poise and balance, which we all need more of in the world,” she said quietly, sipping it, and smiled when everyone seemed to enjoy it. There was a lull them as they all waited for the third glasses to come out and, when they did, Luna visibly brightened. “I chose the L’Etoile de Mer from France for our third wine experience, and this one, as you can see, is of the rose variety, and is told to be pale, pink, and delicious,” she enthused.

Hermione sipped her drink and nodded. “Ronald, this is simply inspired,” she said, her eyes filled with a dreamy look of utter tipsiness. “What do you think?”

“I love it, ‘Mione,” he declared, grinning at her, raising his now-empty glass, before dipping his head down and kissing her.

Luna twittered, placing her hand upon Neville’s knee, who sputtered slightly with a giggle into his own wine glass as she did so. She leaned into his side, and he put his arm carefully around her willowy frame, as everyone finished their glass of rose wine and waited for their next glasses to arrive at the table. “3 Bridges Cabernet Sauvignon from Australia,” Luna said proudly as their glasses of red arrived. They all sipped delicately at what they initially thought to be their last wine, but the owner of the pub came out from the kitchen shortly thereafter, carrying a tray with crystal-cut wine glasses upon it.

“Miss Lovegood was so polite and generous, that I thought that you all should sample the best of the best from our cellar,” he proclaimed, gently putting the new glasses onto the table, and whisking their red wine ones away.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Hermione said, inspecting it. “What is it?”

“This is a champagne, Bollinger La Grande Annee, from France,” said the owner with a twinkle in his eye, reminding Harry of their former headmaster. “I hope you all enjoy. Miss Lovegood has already settled the bill,” he said, and moved away from the table.

Luna attempted to get to her feet. “But, sir, we didn’t pay for—”

“Think of it as a ‘thank you’ for your father so generously doing an article on us,” he said with a friendly smile. “We don’t get many wizards here.”

Harry blanched. “You mean you...?”

“Of course I know. Xenophilius and I were at Hogwarts together. I was a Hufflepuff, if you must know,” the man said with a grin, “or, at least, I would have been, had the hat not decided I’d do better in Ravenclaw,” he went on, slipping back into the kitchen with a laugh.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered, picking up his champagne and tasting it. “Merlin, that’s good. Now I know why you’re always going on about it, ‘Mione.”

“I can’t tell you how many dental conventions my parents have been to,” she said with a quick smile, “but I can tell you that they _always_ tell me about the champagne.” Hermione bent forward then and sipped it. “Oh, Merlin. It’s delicious.”

They settled up everything, leaving a generous tip for the owner, and slipped out of the pub, and found a way to Apparate to Charing Cross Road. Once they’d gotten there, they headed straight inside The Leaky, and Tom had a table towards the side already waiting for them, with several shots of Firewhiskey upon it. Harry immediately approached the table, wanting to continue the night, and wanting to do away with the thoughts that ran rampant from within his mind, about Master Snape’s beautiful voice and false promises.

Of course, he reasoned, the man had hardly promised him anything. However, in his wounded state, Harry certainly couldn’t think clearly. That’s where the Firewhiskey came in, he reasoned, as he took one of the shot glasses and threw it back. Tom brought over trays of shot glasses for them all, with Firewhiskey, Guinness, Tongue-Tying Lemon Squash which had a generous amount of gin in it, Otter’s Fizzy Orange Juice with vodka, Fishy Green Ale, a new variety of pumpkin juice with bourbon, and, finally, some alcoholic Butterbeer.

Once all the drinking had gone on for over an hour, Harry stumbled to his feet to go to the bathroom, but ended up in one of the private rooms instead. He found that he was outright giggling as he approached the fireplace, knowing that all of the ones within The Leaky were on the Floo Network. Stumbling closer, he grabbed some Floo powder and tossed some into the grate, and the flames turned green, waiting for him to call out his destination, or where he wanted to call someone.

“Fiole Bureau, Master Severus Snape’s office!” he said, and covered his mouth with his hands, as more and more giggles threatened to escape from them. The man, he reasoned, was enough of a workaholic to still be at his office this late on a Friday night, despite the fact that it was encroaching upon midnight.

“Who is calling?” came the bark, and Harry shivered automatically as the words entered his subconscious and traveled up and down his body.

“Hey, Sev’rus,” he said, forgetting his manners in his inebriated state.

There was a moment of silence before the man asked, “Harry? Is that you?”

“Yeah!” Harry said, falling to his knees and clapping his hands. “You caught the Hitch right in your sand!” he declared.

“Harry, have you been drinking?” Master Snape asked, his tone an accusatory one.

Anger immediately flared through Harry—the man had no right! “So what?” he slurred, knowing that it wasn’t helping his cause. “I’m celebrating... I graduated. Aren’t I allowed to celebrate at all, Sev’rus?” he whined.

“You haven’t graduated yet; you’ve merely completed your exams,” Master Snape replied, as if he was speaking to a small child. “Are you safe?”

“Does it matter?” Harry demanded. “You’re... You’re the one who p-pushed me away! ‘No, Harry, I have to let you go. I’m not the man for you...’” Harry went on, hating how his voice broke as he said the words.

“Harry, you do realize that all Floo connections have tracking?” Master Snape asked.

Harry mentally cursed himself; had he not been pissed, he would have certainly remembered that little detail. “Maybe,” he managed to get out.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Master Snape ordered. “I hate traveling the Floo at night. I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there soon,” he said, and the connection was cut.

Harry shakily got to his feet, feeling like a right idiot. Stumbling out of the private parlor and back into the main room of The Leaky, his full bladder forgotten, Harry thought it best to get some air. Stepping outside as best he could, Harry drank in some of the early summer air, and hoped that the significant drop in temperature would alleviate his drunken symptoms. As he breathed, he heard the door of The Leaky opening from behind him and, turning, saw that Colin was coming towards him.

“Hey,” Colin said, grinning at him. “You all right?”

“Yeah, fine, Colin,” Harry told him, forcing a smile to his lips. “It was really great of you to come tonight...”

“Even though I don’t graduate for another year?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Of course. Luna’s not graduating, and she came...”

“Yeah, but she’s with Neville, and Neville’s your best mate after Ron and Hermione,” Colin told him, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“We _did_ share a dorm back at Hogwarts, Colin,” Harry told him. “It’s not that hard to become close to your dorm mates. You either hate them, become best friends...”

“Or fall in love with them?” Colin asked, looking in through the window of the pub. “When do you think Dean is gonna wise up?”

“Wise up? Dean’s pretty smart, Colin...”

“Not like this,” Colin told him. “Ginny clearly doesn’t have any real feelings for him; she just doesn’t want to be alone...”

“I don’t think we can assume that, Colin. They’ve been a couple for _years_...”

“But Seamus is in love with Dean,” Colin said turning back to Harry. “Tell me that you can see it and that I’m not blind.”

Harry turned and looked through the window himself, and saw how Seamus was looking at Dean, and how Dean didn’t seem to notice. Such an image was heartbreaking, and Harry knew then that he had known for years about Seamus’s feelings for Dean, but hadn’t said anything, because Dean and Ginny had been a couple... “I suppose you’re right,” Harry said, and nodded his head. “It is pretty obvious...”

“That’s not the only thing that’s obvious, you know.”

Harry blinked, and turned to look at Colin. “What are you talking about?”

Colin sighed. “Harry, I know you know that I’ve really cared about you for a long time,” he said softly, and stepped closer. “I mean, even though I’m a Muggleborn, I still knew who you were. I took all those pictures of you my first year, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Colin, I’m really flattered, but...”

“Please, don’t,” Colin said quickly. “I just need to get this off my chest. Please, Harry,” he went on, and closed the distance between them.

“Colin? Colin, no. _No_ ,” Harry said firmly, but Colin seemed blind and deaf to Harry’s protests as he continued inching closer to him.

“What in Merlin’s teeth do you think you’re doing?!” demanded a beautiful voice from behind Colin, as Colin was suddenly wrenched away from him.

“Sev’rus?” Harry whispered, trembling at the man’s sudden appearance.

“I believe the gentleman said ‘no’, and that means, ‘I do not wished to be passionately snogged by the likes of you’.”

Harry suddenly doubled over then, the night of drinking having caught up with him, and began vomiting on the pavement. He was woozy, and felt himself becoming faint, barely registering the vomit vanishing, and the Cleansing Charm upon his mouth. Then, he felt those incredibly strong arms around him, and Severus’s voice barking orders to Colin, before the pair of them were whisked away somewhere, and Harry’s world was filled with darkness.

~*~

Harry felt the telltale sensation of the pounding in his head when he became aware of things once again, and knew then, for sure, that he’d had way too much to drink the night before. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed for a moment before grunting slightly and pushing himself upwards, thinking that Ron had somehow manhandled him home. However, once he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around, wandlessly and wordlessly summoning his glasses, he came to the conclusion that he was somewhere he hadn’t been before.

Looking down, Harry saw that he was in an unfamiliar undershirt, but was still in his boxers from the night before. Chewing on his tongue, his eyes drifted over to the nightstand, which had a green, crystal-cut bottle upon it, with a slice of parchment beneath it, which read, in spidery scrawl, _Drink me_. Pursing his lips, Harry shuffled forward and took ahold of the bottle, uncorked it, and downed its contents, tasting lemongrass, beets, sage, rosemary, and ginger, and was not altogether displeased with the concoction. The tenderness in his head quickly evaporated, and he drew his knees to his chest, wondering who could possibly fill in the gaps for him as to what had happened the night before.

The room itself appeared to be a guest one, with a secretary desk a few feet away from the bed, a bay window with a green embroidered window cushion upon its seat, two doors—one of which Harry deduced was a closest, and the other a loo—and several framed black and white photographs of herbs. From where Harry sat upon the bed, he could make out angelica, marjoram, dill, thyme, and ivy. It was at the sound of heavy footfalls upon the stairs below him that told Harry that he was not completely alone, and, as he looked up, the door to the bedroom he was in opened.

“Good morning, Harry,” said Master Snape as he stepped into the room, holding onto what appeared to be a breakfast tray, which smelled incredible.

“Good morning,” Harry said, his voice squeaking as the tray, which had legs beneath it, was placed in front of him. Looking down at it, Harry noticed scrambled eggs, rashers of bacon, breakfast potatoes, a platter of fruit, two slices of sourdough toast, and a large glass of iced pumpkin juice. “What...?”

“You took the potion I left you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, you do have an appetite, don’t you?”

“The routine starvation stopped when I was nearly sixteen,” Harry said quietly, slowly picking up the knife and fork—spotting the small plate of butter and jam for the first time—and placing the provided napkin in his lap. “With Molly Weasley’s cooking, I’ve more than made up for my perpetually small stomach.”

Master Snape lowered his eyes. “I doubt my cooking could possibly compare to a mother of eight’s culinary delights...”

“Nonsense,” Harry told him, stabbing at his eggs, and his eyes widened at how delicious they turned out to be. “Merlin, these are good...”

Master Snape inclined his head in thanks and perched upon the side of the bed. “Do you often drink to excess?”

Harry blinked, promptly shaking his head as he lifted his butter knife, smearing a healthy amount of butter and what appeared to be red currant jam onto his first slice of toast. “No, of course not,” he told Master Snape, shocked at how much he wanted to assure the man of that fact. “It was just that... Well, we were celebrating, and we wanted to...”

“Have a bit of fun, is that it?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

Master Snape shook his head. “If you were mine, Harry, I don’t think you would find it particularly easy to sit down for a duration of seven days without utilizing healing salve,” said the potions master.

Harry, who had, by this time, taken a bite of his toast, was shocked. “What?” he asked, the shock registering in his eyes as he spoke with his mouth full.

“Do you doubt my implication?”

Harry managed to swallow his bite of toast as he stared at the man. “If your implication is that you would spank me for my behavior, and then refuse to heal me, I understand you quite clearly, sir,” he replied. “I don’t, however, I believe that resorting to corporal punishment is very appropriate...”

“Some people enjoy it, Harry.”

“Some people...?” Harry shook his head, lowering the rest of his slice of toast. “Merlin, you’re unbelievable...”

“What?” asked Master Snape.

Harry scoffed. “You know what...”

Master Snape reached out then, gently taking ahold of Harry’s chin, and pulled it so as the younger man was looking at him. “If I knew the true direction of where your thoughts were going, Harry, then I would not ask you.”

“You’re not using your mind tricks on me?”

“Legilimency is not a ‘mind trick’, Harry. It is a tool of navigation, wherein the caster goes through the person’s mind in an effort to correctly deduce the person’s feelings,” Master Snape told him simply. “I’m not using it on you now, for you are not a client of mine, and I would think that you would be honest with me.”

Harry sighed, lowering his eyes away from the black pools of Master Snape’s. “It’s just... I don’t understand why you seemed to do everything in your power to push me away the last time we saw each other... Well, before last night,” he went on, and felt himself flushing deeply at the memories which managed to come back to him. “I guess you could say that I’m not the biggest fan of mixed signals...”

“I can understand that. That is yet another thing we have in common,” Master Snape informed him, not releasing his chin.

“Could I get a straight answer, then?” Harry asked.

Master Snape squeezed at his chin ever so slightly, prompting Harry to look back up at him. “It would appear that I have become incapable of staying away from you, Harry.”

Harry felt a gasp lodging itself in his throat as the shock rocketed through him. “You... You really mean that?” he whispered.

Master Snape slowly smiled at Harry. “I do. One thing you will never get from me, Harry, is dishonesty. I am that way with my clients, as well as my family and friends.”

“And... And in what capacity do you want me?” Harry breathed.

Master Snape slowly caressed Harry’s chin, never taking his eyes away from his. “That is somewhat up to you, Harry. I don’t like being too forceful, if it is clearly not what the other person involved wants.”

Harry felt his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Forceful?” he managed to get out.

“Precisely,” Master Snape replied. “If I had it my way, I think I would have you, every which way, for as long as we both pleased.”

Harry felt himself flushing even deeper, if such a thing was even possible. “Merlin... That’s just mad,” he whispered.

Master Snape smirked. “Oh, I doubt that very much, Harry. You’re exquisite. Anyone would be lucky to have you. While I don’t admire Mr. Creevey’s actions last evening, I will never disparage him his tastes in men.”

“And you have tastes in men?”

“I just said I did, Harry.”

“And do you... Do those tastes also go towards women?”

Master Snape continued to smirk. “While I can recognize the attractiveness in any female specimen, Harry, I am not attracted to them sexually.”

“Have you ever been with a woman?”

“No,” Master Snape answered. “I lost my virginity at the age of around sixteen. The man who took my virginity is a part of my past, and he helped me discover what makes me tick,” the man explained. “It wasn’t an eye opening experience, me realizing I liked men; it always was a part of my genetic makeup. It was what I liked _doing_ with men that really floored me, and it is something that, while I keep it private, I still enjoy it nevertheless.”

Harry nodded. “I suppose that all makes sense,” he whispered.

“You have no idea how truly beautiful and captivating you are, do you, Harry?” Master Snape asked, mapping out every inch of his face with his black eyes.

Harry chuckled lightly then, lowering his eyes. “No, I’m not,” he said softly, sinking his teeth into his lower lip.

Master Snape reached out then, gently pulling Harry’s lip from betwixt his lips, and Harry’s eyes locked onto his. “I would like to bite that lip,” the man whispered.

Harry felt his entire body shuddering then. “I think I would like that,” he replied.

“I’m unwilling to touch you, Harry, until we’ve come to a firm agreement, and I’ve got your consent from that,” Master Snape told him.

Harry blinked. “What are you talking about, Master Snape?”

The man smiled softly then. “One thing that I must tell you, Harry, is that I would prefer if you addressed me as Severus whenever it is appropriate to do so,” he said softly. “I find ‘Master Snape’ to be only utilized appropriately in an apprentice setting, or in an employee one. As you are neither, ‘Severus’ is the most appropriate.”

Harry nodded. “Very well, Severus.”

Severus smiled at him, gently caressing his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “We will have a serious discussion about what we will come to mean to each other, Harry,” he told him, before he lowered his hand and got off the bed. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast? There are some new clothes for you in the loo, and you can take a shower. You’ll find shampoo, conditioner, and body wash inside the shower caddy. If you need anything, anything at all, my house-elf, Orlee, shall take care of you.”

Harry nodded at the man. “Thank you,” he whispered. Harry waited for the man to leave, before he finished his breakfast and got to his feet. He called for Orlee, who took the tray and things away to the kitchen with a smile, and Harry trooped over towards the loo, letting himself inside and doing his absolutions. He found that his wand was sitting on top of the loo, much to his relief, and utilizing a Cleaning Spell for his teeth once he’d completed his shower.

The outfit, which Harry assumed Severus had gotten him, consisted of a pair of charcoal-gray trousers, a deep green button-down, a black vest, some nondescript striped socks, and a new pair of black Brogue shoes. Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Harry left the bathroom, after trying and failing to brush his hair, and walked through the bedroom. After finding that he had no further belongings within, he trooped out of there, down the hallway, and made his way down the staircase and into a sitting room.

Severus looked up as Harry came down the last step and stood in front of him. The man appeared to be wanting to calm himself, but, once he realized there was naught to be done, he suddenly charged forward like a panther. “Fuck the discussion,” he declared, grabbing ahold of Harry and slamming him up against the wall beneath the staircase, forcing Harry’s lips open, and mapping out every inch of Harry’s mouth with his tongue. Severus took ahold of Harry’s arms, which tried their best to go around Severus, and pinned them up above his head, and Harry was mortified when he mewled in the man’s mouth.

There was a pop from beside them and a gravelly, “Master Severus?”

Severus tore himself away from Harry, who lowered his eyes and flushed back; he couldn’t even look at the man’s house-elf. “Yes, Orlee?” Severus asked.

“Will Master Severus and Master Harry be staying for lunch?”

“No, thank you, Orlee. See to your other chores, please,” Severus replied.

“Naturally, Master Severus,” Orlee replied, and popped away.

“Sorry about him,” Severus said softly, gently tilting Harry’s chin up. “I don’t often have guests, so he becomes excited.”

Harry nodded. “My house-elf, Kreacher, works in the Hogwarts Kitchens. I just couldn’t keep him after I realized how much he liked it there...”

“Ah, so you’re compassionate as well,” Severus observed. He stared at Harry for a moment and nodded his head. “You understand how taken I am with you?”

“I like to think so,” Harry whispered.

Severus nodded, before reaching out his hand. “Come with me.”

Harry willingly reached out and took Severus’s hand, and was guided across the room towards the massive fireplace, which had a pot of Floo powder hanging just beside it. Harry took the pot when Severus held it out to him, and watched as Severus scattered the powder into the flames, which promptly sputtered to life and flared green. Swallowing, Harry handed the man back the pot, tensing slightly as he wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Charlecote Park,” Severus uttered.

The Floo elongated itself automatically as Harry and Severus stepped into it, and they were promptly swallowed up by the flames. They were spat out of a fireplace on the other side, with Severus casting _Scourgify_ on them both, and taking Harry by the hand and down the stairs. It was shocking to Harry when Severus nodded to someone, taking Harry out the main doors and into what Harry knew to be a deer park. There were no paths before them, meaning that the guests would have to walk along the grass, and the single body of water was curved and went off in all directions; Severus chose one at random and casually led Harry along, who looked around him, taking in the bronze deer statue, as well as the flora and fauna around them.

“This is beautiful,” Harry whispered.

Severus looked to where Harry was looking; his younger companion was walking close to the edge of the water, and was gazing at the expanse of park land around them. “It is,” Severus replied with a nod. “My mother used to take me here when I was a boy, whenever we could get away from my father. It was a wonderful respite, even if only for just a few hours, just to get out into the fresh air.”

“I’m sure that there are many potions ingredients here,” Harry observed.

Severus turned to look over at Harry. “Yes, there are. However, this is a National Park, and, to be a proper member of The Potions Guild, you cannot obtain ingredients from one.”

Harry blinked; he hadn’t known that tidbit of information before. “Where are you permitted to take them from, then?”

“From your own garden, of course,” Severus replied, walking along again, and Harry hurried to keep up with the man’s long strides. “Any other members’ of The Guild, who give you permission to harvest in their gardens, are also permitted. And then there is Wizarding Trusted Land, the equivalent of a Muggle’s National Trust, such as The Forbidden Forest or the greenhouses at Hogwarts, which all the schools have, as herbology is a core class in every curriculum,” he explained. “Every wizarding school that you can think of has a Wizards’ Division in their nearby forest, so, even if they are in the National Trust, there are apparent markers for expert Herbologists, potion masters, or magizoologists to know where is an appropriate place for them to cultivate or study the wildlife, flora, or fauna,” he went on, and Harry realized that he could listen to the man speaking all day.

“What about the other schools?” Harry wanted to know. “Where can Herbologists, potion masters, and magizoologists go?”

Severus smiled at Harry. “The Pyrenees conifer and mixed forests for Beauxbatons; the Forests of Smolyan for Durmstrang; the Mohawk Trail State Forest for Ilvermorny; the Amazon rainforest for Castelobruxo; the Yakushima Forest for Mahoutokoro School of Magic; the Białowieża Forest for Koldovstoretz; and the Mabira Forest for the Uagadou School of Magic,” he said softly, in a tone that Harry would describe as reverent.

“You’re unbelievable,” Harry whispered, his tone one of awe.

Severus smiled. “I have merely dedicated my life to this particular subject, Harry. Anyone could easily do the same.”

“Not Neville,” Harry told him, and Severus arched an eyebrow. “A close friend of Ron’s and mine, who is very much in love with Luna, his girlfriend,” he said quickly, not wanting Severus to get the wrong idea. “He... He never could grasp potions. He was the best Herbologist in our year, though, and Professor Sprout is giving him an apprenticeship starting next term, but in potions he was completely helpless,” he said softly, feeling sorry for his friend. “They’d turn out the wrong color, or he’d forget an ingredient or wouldn’t stir it properly. Even if he paid attention, they’d turn out useless... No matter how patient Professor Slughorn was with Neville, it wouldn’t matter, and Hermione, Ron, and I were particularly surprised that he managed to get into advanced potions at all...”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” Severus asked, going back a few words in Harry’s thoughts, clearly wanting to get to the bottom of Neville’s problem.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. Slughorn was a decent enough professor, I suppose, but Neville always seemed jumpy and nervous around him.”

Severus blinked, never taking his eyes off Harry. “In what way?”

“He was uncomfortable,” Harry said softly.

Severus gave a short nod, and turned back out to look at the water, clearly wanting to put the conversation to bed. “You mentioned you were raised by Muggles.”

Harry chuckled darkly. “If by ‘raised’, you mean kept in a cupboard as a bedroom for nearly eleven years, taught to cook and clean from the age of four, and be beaten constantly for the smallest infractions imaginable, not to mention the ‘Harry Hunting’... Yes,” he said softly. “I was raised by Muggles.”

“Cupboard?”

“They only had three bedrooms, and the third was used for all my cousin’s broken toys,” Harry explained with a small shrug. “Once my Hogwarts letter came, Vernon and Petunia became worried that it would be found out, even though it had been printed on the bloody envelope where I lived specifically... Anyhow, afterwards, they gave me Dudley’s second bedroom, but their treatment of me hardly improved.”

“But you mean to tell me that you _lived_ in...?”

“A cupboard? Yes,” Harry said softly. “Until my eleventh birthday, I was seen as the unwanted and orphaned freak who had to live with them. You know, they even told me that my mum and dad died in a car crash,” he said, his tone bitter.

“That is utterly disgusting,” Severus said softly.

“You’re telling me,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around himself. “I got to spend Christmases at the Burrow, every year after second year, but Headmaster Dumbledore said I would be at my safest staying at Privet Drive, because of all the Death Eaters still on the loose. He said they blamed me, you know, for Riddle’s death, and so the blood wards would keep me protected from their wrath...”

“And after you turned fifteen?”

“I can speak to snakes,” Harry said, very quietly. “There were whispers from the various paintings throughout the school, ones which had snakes in them, that my godfather, Sirius, was in danger... I know you didn’t like him, and I understand, but he was good to me...”

“No need to apologize, Harry,” Severus told him.

“Anyhow, I got scared, and so I followed their advice and went to the Ministry of Magic, where they said he was being held. He was, by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and brother-in-law, plus the Carrow siblings, Dolohov, and Greyback. My friends—they refused to be left behind—and I waged battle upon them before the Aurors came...”

“Who went with you?”

“Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna,” he replied. “Ginny is Ron’s younger sister, and the only girl in the family, and she refused to be left out. Fred and George, their twin older brothers, covered for us back at the school, and promised to summon the Aurors, while we fought all the Death Eaters.”

“How did you manage to accomplish that?”

“Remus was our instructor until I graduated before he retired,” Harry explained. “He was the best of the best, ever since Lockhart went mad and Quirrell disappeared...”

“And Black was murdered?”

“Yes, by Bellatrix,” Harry said, his throat threatening to close up with emotion.

“Which Aurors came?”

“Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Dawlish, Robards, Scrimgeour, among others,” Harry said. “They caught and imprisoned them all, except Greyback, who Neville ended up killing after he went after Luna...”

“Neville was the one who killed Greyback?”

“His teeth were bared. He could’ve bitten her,” Harry said firmly.

Severus raised his eyebrows. “I suppose he warrants being in Gryffindor, then.”

Harry nodded. “He does,” he assured him.

Severus inclined his head. “I see that now.”

Harry and Severus continued meandering along through the park, and Harry found that Severus had yet to open up completely. “Will you tell me something more about you?” he asked. “Not about potions, or the Dark Arts or herbology, but about you...”

“You are asking me to get personal.”

Harry sighed. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

Severus nodded his head. “I suppose I can afford to be so, for a time, anyway, for you have so willingly done so with me,” he replied. Thinking it over as they walked along, he began to speak once again. “I enjoy a good red wine with my dinner. I enjoy home-cooked meals, or meals in restaurants that are reminiscent of such. My favorite food is a Sunday roast, with roasted potatoes and vegetables, which usually pairs excellently with a red wine. My favorite cuisine is Italian, and I can speak that language, along with French and Gaelic. The first potion I brewed successfully was Forgetfulness Potion, underneath my mother’s watchful eye, as a celebration of receiving my Hogwarts letter. Both my parents are still living; my mother was restored to the Prince family line after my grandfather passed away, and my grandmother permitted it. After my grandmother passed away, my mother and father moved into the Prince Estate. I enjoy classical music, with Mozart, Chopin, and Liszt being my favorites. I very much enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures and astronomy while I was in school. My favorite weather is a dark and stormy day so as I can read a good book and just listen to the rain. I enjoy Shakespeare, _King Lear_ is my favorite of his plays; Austen, _Sense and Sensibility_ being my choice of her novels; Orwell, _Animal Farm_ captured me as a teenager and still continues to do so; and Tolstoy, with _Anna Karenina_ devastating and enlightening in equal parts the most of all. I do enjoy a Muggle film every now and again, and find the works of Hitchcock, Welles, and Kurosawa both entertaining and captivating me the most. I enjoy cooking, and occasionally host an intimate dinner party, or, when I cannot, I provide menus for my mother and father for their various gatherings at Prince Estate. My mother knows about my homosexuality and accepts it, while my father is indifferent to it, due to his inability to understand the Wizarding World. I have traveled extensively throughout Europe, and have been to each of the wizarding schools at least once. I am on good terms with each of their potion masters, and we will frequently compare notes on experiments, cultivations, curriculum, and other findings, questions, or concerns we may have. And, right now, I find myself utterly and completely captivated by a young man who is about to graduate from university and, despite the fact that he doesn’t know how to spend his time, I do hope he will spend a significant amount of it with me, due to my inability to continue to keep myself away from him.”

Harry stared at Severus, too shocked to speak for a handful of moments. No one, in the entirety of his life, had ever opened up so completely to him anymore, and it was a bit overwhelming for him, especially that last bit. However, he was pleased to see that he and Severus appeared to be on the same page. He couldn’t even consider what he would do if the man rejected him a second time. He had been a wreck for days, internalizing the pain, not wanting to come out of his shell, and Ron and Hermione had been so worried about him. He suddenly realized that they didn’t know where he was, and he shook his head.

“My friends...”

“I instructed Casper to inform them that you were with me,” Severus replied.

Harry pulled his lips inwards then, in an effort to stifle a laugh. “I think you know that his name is ‘Colin’, Severus,” he said, reprimanding him gently.

Severus smirked. “Yes. Please pardon me for my brief foray into immaturity.”

Harry and Severus came to stand at the top of a hill, and Harry gasped aloud at the sheep which seemed to dot every surface of the field below. “Sheep!” he crowed.

Severus chuckled as he came up behind him. “Those are Jacob sheep, and they’re bred here in the park,” he explained. “Would you care to take a closer look?”

Harry turned and faced Severus. “Can we?”

“Yes, of course. I am on good terms with the gentleman in charge,” he explained, putting his arm around Harry and guiding him down the hill. As they approached a fenced-in area, Severus smiled at the man. “Tim,” he said.

“Ah, Severus,” said the man in an East London accent, holding out his hand, which Severus quickly moved to grasp. “Friend of yers, then?” he asked, nodding to Harry.

“Precisely. This is Harry,” Severus explained. “Harry, this is Tim. He’s looking over some of the new lambs.”

“Would yer like to meet ‘em, son?” Tim asked.

“I would,” Harry said, immediately nodding his head.

Tim nodded, opening the kissing gate at the front of the fenced-in area, and motioned for Harry and Severus to step through. “Come on, then. They’re just about to ‘ave their lunch. You can help feed ‘em, if you like.” Tim walked over into the small enclosure, and came out with several bottles in his hands. Handing two each to Harry and Severus, he knelt down in front of one of the lambs, who darted forward at the sight of the nipple, and proceeded to drink. “Go ahead, you two. They’ll only bite yer if ya don’t feed ‘em.”

Harry bent himself in half and held out the bottles; he gasped as two little lambs stumbled forward and proceeded to eat from them. He found he couldn’t take his eyes away from their beautiful faces and, once they’d finished, Harry was permitted to pet them. They grew quite attached to Harry, and Harry was sorry to leave them behind. However, he was assuaged when Tim said they were welcome back anytime, and Severus said he would be sure to bring Harry back to see the lambs as they grew.

Harry and Severus continued walking throughout the park, up one path and down the other, until the sun began to dip slightly towards the trees. Turning to Severus, Harry said softly, “I should get back for dinner...”

“Will you join me?” Severus asked.

Harry blinked, warmth filling him quickly at the notion that this man wanted to spend more time with him. “I’d love to.”

Severus nodded, taking Harry by the hand again and leading him back towards the castle. The Floo was utilized again, and they soon found themselves in the uppermost floor of what appeared to be an older building. Heading down the staircase, Harry was again shocked when Severus nodded to a maître d’, who promptly showed them into a lavishly carpeted dining area, with white tablecloth-covered tables. Severus took the single red chair, while Harry slipped into the green booth, and they were promptly given menus. A waiter headed over to their table shortly thereafter, a smile on his face.

“Can I get either of you gentlemen started on some drinks?”

“I’ll have a glass of Pinot, please,” Severus replied.

“Very good, sir,” the man said. “And for you, sir?” he asked Harry.

“San Pellegrino, please,” Harry said softly.

“I’ll be right back with those for you two,” the waiter said, and slipped off to the bar, presumably to tell the bartender their drink orders.

“What looks appetizing to you, Harry?” Severus asked. “Please, get whatever you like.”

“I’ve always been fond of chicken Milanese,” he said quietly.

“Lovely,” Severus said, waiting a few moments before shutting his menu. The waiter came by with their drinks shortly thereafter, and Severus began to order. “I’d like to begin with the white onion soup, the fillet of beef with the green leaf salad mixed with herbs for my entrée, and the frozen berries for dessert,” he told the man, and handed over his menu. “Harry?”

Harry wetted his lip and stared down at the menu. “Yes, the white onion soup to start with as well, please. The chicken Milanese with the extra virgin olive oil mashed potato for my entrée, and the chocolate bombe for dessert, please,” he said, and quickly handed over the menu to the waiter.

The waiter thanked them for their orders and whisked himself away to put them in, before servicing other customers throughout the dining room. Harry remained silent, straightening his napkin in his lap, and barely looking up as he sipped his sparkling water.

“Are you all right?”

Harry sighed. “It’s just... The last time we sat down like this somewhere, you told me that you weren’t the right man for me, and that I should stay away from you...”

Severus reached out then, taking Harry’s hand. “I apologize,” he said, running the pad of his thumb over Harry’s knuckles. “I was afraid that I would be everything you didn’t need.”

“What if you’re exactly what I need?” Harry whispered back.

Severus was about to reply when their soups arrived, and he gently let go of Harry’s hand. They ate their soups in virtual silence, as they did their entrées, but Severus found that he couldn’t take his eyes off Harry as his companion ate his dessert. The chocolate bombe was the dessert that the restaurant was known for, and his lips systematically became smeared with both chocolate and caramel sauce, making Harry good enough to eat.

“What do you say about returning to my home?” Severus asked, his tone husky.

Harry nodded. “I would be amenable to that,” he said softly.

Severus called for the bill as they finished their desserts, and they journeyed back upstairs to utilize the Floo. Coming out on the other side of Severus’s living room, Harry was surprised when the man didn’t take him straight upstairs, and instead brought him over to the sofa. Harry willingly sat, staring across at the man, confused.

“I mentioned that we had to have a serious discussion.”

Harry nodded, remembering. “Yes.”

“I want to be utterly open with you about my likes and dislikes within the boundaries of the bedroom, Harry. I want us to be on the same page.”

Harry straightened up then. “I understand.”

“Good,” Severus said quietly. “First and foremost, you know that I have a past. I am not a virgin, as previously stated.”

Harry nodded. “I understand,” he repeated.

Severus took ahold of Harry’s hands and squeezed them. “I don’t wish to frighten you, but I like it rough in the bedroom, Harry.”

Harry’s brows knit together. “Rough?”

“Rough. My sex, I mean. I like it rough. Kissing, as demonstrated earlier; oral, and anal. I like it rough, as in hard and fast. I never intend to deliberately hurt people, but, sometimes, partners can get caught up in the moment. However, if pain happens during, and we both enjoy it, then it is just something to potentially add to the repertoire. As for afterwards, if the other person wishes to be healed, I will do so, no questions asked. I like being called ‘Severus’ in the bedroom; I don’t have a kink for being ‘potions master Snape’ behind closed doors.”

Harry nodded. “Go on.”

“Whenever I sleep with someone, I want to have common ground with them. Common ground entails the potential to have intelligent conversations, as well as similar upbringings or hobbies, which will make it better to understand one another. I also don’t take sleeping with someone lightly, and I usually see some kind of future with them, which can entail a number of things. As for the relationship side of things, we are partners, and while I am always the top—which is non-negotiable—we are equals. I demand fidelity and complete monogamy from anyone I decide to sleep with, and I never pursue anyone who may have other romantic attachments. If, for some reason, the agreement is no longer feasible, then we part ways amicably.” Severus peered closer at Harry, who had hardly said anything. “Do you understand?”

Harry swallowed. “I... I understand...”

“That’s good, Harry, very good,” he told him. “I also have to know about your sexual history. I will request that you be seen by my healer to ensure that you don’t have any underlying conditions, and we will seek to cure or treat them if such things are found. I also need to know what you are and aren’t all right with in the bedroom, because I would hate to make you uncomfortable in any way. One word from you, Harry, and I’ll stop. I don’t want to make this difficult for you...”

“It... It’s not difficult, per se,” Harry whispered.

“Harry, Harry, look at me,” Severus said, tilting Harry’s chin up. “It’s all right. No need to be embarrassed about what you may have liked or not liked in the past. I’ve heard and experienced many things throughout my life, and I would never make you feel ashamed about something so intimate as that. I want us to be open with one another, so open that we can discuss this, and get through this, together.”

Harry nodded, feeling as if his time with Severus was limited. “I... I know that, and I’m sorry, Severus, but I don’t have an answer for you...”

“What do you mean, Harry?”

“I don’t have an answer for you, because I wouldn’t know.”

Severus stared at Harry, his eyes widening as the words washed over him. “What are you saying here, Harry?” he whispered. “Surely, even someone like you know what you like and don’t like in the bedroom...”

“Someone like me?” Harry asked, chuckling slightly, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t know because I... I haven’t...”

Severus’s eyes widened further then. “You’re still a virgin?”

Harry nodded. “I’m... I’m sorry...”

“No need to apologize, Harry, but you do realize that everything I’ve told you...”

“Put a Fidelus on our conversations if you must, Severus, but I wouldn’t tell anyone about what we do together regardless. As for what you told me, I had no way of knowing what you were going to say to me...”

“You’ve done other things, though, right?”

Harry swallowed and shook his head. “No. Ginny... Ginny tried to kiss me once, but she was still with Dean. I came out to her immediately, and she never tried that again. Today... When you kissed me today, that was the first time I’d done anything...”

Severus nodded, knowing just how correct Harry was. Letting go of his hands, Severus reached upwards to cup Harry’s face, something stirring within him at the notion that Harry so readily leaned into him. “Where have you been?” he whispered.

“Waiting,” Harry whispered back.

Severus shook his head. “Men must throw themselves at you...”

Harry shook his head on his own that time. “Never one I’ve wanted...”

Severus closed the distance between them then and kissed Harry, much gentler than he’d done that morning, and Harry felt his insides—which had been warm throughout the day—suddenly ignite with a sensation of burning desire. He hadn’t known what wonderful feelings such things from Severus would evoke through him, and he found that he could see himself growing addicted to the man’s touch, if he wasn’t already.

Suddenly, Severus moved back and away from him and got to his feet, tangling his hand into Harry’s and pulling him up as well. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“To deal with this situation,” Severus replied, his voice husky, as it had been at the restaurant earlier that night.

Harry blinked, stumbling to keep up with Severus as they veered towards the staircase. “I’m a situation?” he wanted to know.

Severus remained silent as he brought Harry into his bedroom, the master bedroom, a room that Harry hadn’t seen yet. Guiding him inside slowly, he lit the room with his wand so that the lighting was intimate, and stood in the center of the room with him. Turning around and facing Harry in the rose-tinted light, he went to his knees in front of him, and slowly unlaced his shoes, taking care whilst pulling off his socks. Next, his fingers raised upwards and unbuttoned the fastenings upon Harry’s trousers, and Harry felt his prick jumping at the attention. As Severus lowered Harry’s trousers, he pressed his lips to his toned abdomen, and Harry threw back his head, a groan escaping his lips before he could call it back, his eyes subsequently rolling back into his head.

Gently, Severus eased him backwards so that he was sitting at the foot of his bed, and pulled the trousers off from his legs. He dragged his callused and potion-stained fingers up Harry’s muscled legs, and Harry clenched his teeth to prevent himself from crying out with desire. Staring at Harry, Severus reached out and made to pull his shirt over his head, and Harry complied, putting his arms up to accommodate him. He flushed as Severus stared so openly at his chest, before he leaned in and met their lips again. As they kissed, Severus dragged and dragged his hands gently along the skin of Harry’s back, and Harry promptly arched up against him.

Severus pulled back then, slowly, so as his eyes locked with Harry’s, before he dipped his head downwards and found a particularly sensitive area upon Harry’s neck. Pressing his mouth there, he slowly permitted it to open, teasing Harry’s untouched flesh with his tongue, and slightly nipping at it with his teeth. This time, Harry couldn’t hold back his groan as his head moved itself backwards of its own accord, delighting in the ambiances that Severus seemed to evoke from him so easily. Maneuvering Harry backwards, Severus pushed himself back upwards and tossed his robes to the other side of the room, and proceeded to unbutton the white button-down he wore, that seemed to awaken every fantasy Harry had ever had. Slowly, with each button popping out of place, the man dropped the shirt to the ground and started on his trousers, making quick work of them, before he stepped out of his shoes and socks. He was then left, standing at the foot of the bed, wearing nothing but black silk boxers, which caused Harry’s cock to rise even further for the occasion, especially when they were discarded, and Harry felt amazed at how large Severus Snape truly was.

Harry swallowed, watching Severus’s every move as he moved up the bed, his hands coming out to slowly drag the green boxers—which left little to the imagination, as his cock was pressed up against the fabric and leaking—down Harry’s legs, still toned from Quidditch. Leaning down, following the boxers as they left Harry’s legs, Severus tossed them away somewhere, and pressed his lips to the arch of Harry’s foot, his ankle, his inner knee, his thigh, and repeated the process, before coming back up again. Facing Harry, he licked at the seam of his lips, and Harry readily opened up for the man, arching up against him once more.

“I’m going to taste you,” Severus declared, going downwards on the bed once more, and licked the tip of Harry’s cock with his tongue.

Harry bucked, moaning, and moved his hand towards his lips. “Oh, fuck, Severus...”

Severus smirked against his leg. Lowering his head further, Harry let out a squeak of surprise when the man gently parted the cheeks of his arse, and ran his tongue up and around the wrinkled furl there. He gently pressed down onto Harry’s legs, so as to prevent Harry from inadvertently kicking him in the face. “It’s all right,” he whispered, the sensation of Severus whispering just _so close_ to his arsehole, as well as the warmth in response to the coolness of the man’s saliva was nearly his undoing.

Harry permitted himself to grow used to the sensations, his eyes continually rolling back in his head as Severus speared his tongue, permitting it to go inside the ring of muscles and taste at the velvet insides that was Harry Potter. Biting hard upon his tongue to keep himself from crying out, he was barely aware of Severus summoning a tub of lubricant, but watched avidly as the man prepared his fingers in order to stretch Harry. The first was a trial, but the second went in accordingly, and then the third made him squirm again, especially when he considered what was to come afterwards.

“I’ll not hurt you, Harry,” Severus whispered, dragging his free hand along Harry’s abdomen. “I assure you, you will be pleased.”

Harry nodded his head, spreading his legs further when Severus gently pressed them apart, and watched as the man withdrew his fingers and began slicking his erection. “Merlin, you’re big,” he breathed.

“Just relax,” Severus whispered back.

Severus positioned himself opposite Harry’s arsehole, and slowly guided himself inside. He told Harry to bear down around him, so as to minimize the pain, and Harry listened to each and every word the man said. Severus waited until Harry seemed used to his admittedly impressive girth, before he canted his hips back and forth. He was amazed when Harry, after growing used to it, wrapped his legs around Severus’s torso, and placed his palms onto Severus’s shoulders to gain more leverage. Severus couldn’t believe how compatible they were, and Harry’s chants of “harder”, “faster”, and “Merlin, Severus!” told him that he was doing a halfway decent job at taking Harry’s virginity.

Harry came first, splattering his stomach with a healthy amount of semen, and Severus was awed at how erotic it was to see Harry come. When Severus groaned and collapsed, filling Harry, he moved so as he wouldn’t smash him. He casted a Cleaning Charm upon them and pulled Harry flush against him, feeling bone tired. Harry’s breathing evened out shortly thereafter, meaning that Severus could no longer feel guilty if he himself succumbed to sleep.

~*~

Harry awoke the following morning and found that he was tender but not extremely so in his arse, and moved to get out of bed. Finding that he was hungry, he made a grab for Severus’s outer robe and draped it over his body, before stealing out of the bedroom and going quickly down the stairs. As it was a Sunday, he was not surprised not to see Orlee about, given that most witches and wizards gave their house-elves time off on that day. Smiling to himself, Harry puttered into the kitchen, searching the pantry, and decided to make breakfast for Severus, to thank him for such a lovely time.

Gathering together the ingredients for the pancakes Molly Weasley had made for him, Ron, and everyone else while they were in school—and still to this day—he charmed the Wizarding Wireless to work. Celestina Warbeck pumped out into the kitchen, the jazz inspiring to Harry as he mixed the batter together. Once he got the griddle hot enough, Harry layered the batter onto it in perfectly symmetrical circles. In another pan, rashers of bacon were cooking as well, and he had already made up a platter of sliced fruit.

“‘Mix a pinch of spice with a dash of charm, and a sprinkling of romance, they’re why my cauldron is full of hot, strong love, is worth it, take the chance!’” Harry sang. “‘Oh, come and stir my cauldron, and if you do it right, I’ll boil you up some hot, strong love...’”

“‘To keep you warm tonight,’” said a voice on the other side of the room.

Harry gasped, turning around them, and facing Severus. “Hi,” he said.

“Good morning,” Severus replied, slipping into a seat at the kitchen table. “Did you sleep well last night, Harry?”

“Hmmm,” Harry replied, flashing the man a smile and finishing up the cooking. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Very,” Severus replied.

“Because I’ve made pancakes and rashers,” he said, banishing the platter of fruit onto the table and watching Severus. “I hope you don’t mind...”

“Mind? Why would I mind?” Severus asked, lifting up a slice of peace. “I like a partner who takes initiative in the mornings.”

Harry chuckled at that, finishing the breakfast preparations and putting everything onto the plates he found in the cupboards. Laying them out on the table, he watched as Severus summoned butter, honey, maple syrup, and berries that Harry hadn’t previously sliced up. Harry put butter and syrup onto his cakes, while Severus used the honey and the berries. After eating the pancakes, which Severus loved, they started on their bacon. Noticing the grease dripping from his fingers afterwards, Harry stuck his thumb into his mouth.

Severus, watching, banished the dishes into the sink to wash themselves, before he reached out and took ahold of Harry’s other hand. Opening his own mouth, Severus wiped his tongue over the pad of Harry’s greasy finger, and Harry couldn’t stop the giggle escaping his lips from the sensation. “Could I persuade you to join me for a bath?” Severus asked, and Harry nodded.

Leading the way, Severus took Harry into the en suite of the master bedroom, and pulled off the outer robe that Harry had borrowed from him. Severus charmed the bath to go on to an appropriate temperature, and climbed into it with Harry, once he had undressed. Pulling Harry so that he was lying against his stomach, he dragged his hands up and down Harry’s body, as if memorizing it, like he had done the night before. He washed Harry’s hair, but wouldn’t permit Harry to wash his own, and wrapped Harry up in a towel.

“Happy?” he asked.

Harry grinned at him. “Yes,” he replied.

Guiding Harry back into the bedroom, Severus lay Harry down upon the surface of the bed. “I want you to keep your hands up. Can you do that for me?”

Harry nodded. “Yes.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” Severus told him, before kneeling in front of him, and taking Harry’s already half-hard erection into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, the expletive tearing through his lips like a prayer, as he arched up to meet Severus’s sinful lips. Harry was so engrossed, he didn’t hear the Floo flaring in the living room, nor the subsequent pop, which could have only been Orlee. It was when the indistinct conversation filtered into the bedroom that Severus stopped and listened, swearing underneath his breath.

“It’s all right,” he told Harry. “I’ll be back.”

Harry leaned up on the bed, watching as the man dressed himself and left the bedroom. Harry walked over to the door, hearing the conversation, and was shocked to discover that it was none other than Eileen Snape, Severus’s mother. Smiling to himself, Harry was pleased to find another new set of clothes for him, and dressed as hastily as Severus had, before making his way out of the room and down the stairs.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your sleep schedule, Severus,” Eileen Snape said as Harry moved down the staircase, “but you know how I worry. You are my only son, and if you miss your Sunday brunch with me, I tend to worry...”

“Mother, please. I’ve been hard at work on some research, and I couldn’t help but sleep a bit later today...”

“Morning,” Harry said, stepping into the living room.

“Oh! Oh, Merlin,” Eileen said, smiling at Harry in a moment of shock.

“Mother, Harry Potter. Harry, meet my mother, Eileen Prince-Snape,” he said formally, looking altogether pleased that Eileen looked pleased.

Eileen promptly put out her hand, which Harry shook. “You have no idea how delighted I am to meet you,” she said warmly.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Snape,” Harry said quickly, returning her smile.

“Eileen,” she said promptly, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders as they moved closer towards Severus. “He’s very handsome... You’re very handsome,” Eileen declared.

“Oh, well, thank you, Eileen,” Harry said, chuckling slightly.

“Pardon me, Master Severus,” Orlee said, stepping into the room again, “but there is a Floo call for Master Harry.”

Harry looked up at Severus, not knowing the protocol.

“It’s all right,” Severus said quickly. “Go and see who it is.”

“You must come to the estate for dinner, Harry,” Eileen said as Harry moved towards the room where the Floo was kept.

“Thank you, Eileen,” Harry said, and stepped into the sitting room, where he could clearly make out Ron and Hermione’s faces in the flames. “Hey, you two,” he said.

“Blimey, mate! We were just about to call Tonks and the rest of them!” Ron shouted, his voice tinged with worry.

“Honestly, Ronald,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. “You’re there now, right? You’re at Master Snape’s?”

Harry nodded. “I am.”

“‘Mione, of course he is. Given that we called his Floo... Oi!” he shouted, presumably after being smacked by his girlfriend.

“But, you’re all right, Harry?” Hermione questioned.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I am. I can’t stay long, but I’ll be back to the flat tonight.”

“I’ll put a roast on,” Hermione said quickly. “Ronald, write me a shopping list.”

“But, ‘Mione, I don’t know how to—”

Hermione smacked him again. “Surely after being raised by someone as proper as Molly Weasley, you know how! _Go_!” she said firmly, and Ron left the connection. “Harry, what happened?” she whispered. “After you disappeared at The Leaky...”

“I’ll talk to you both about it later,” Harry said in a rush, wondering just how much he would be permitted to tell Ron and Hermione.

“Colin said that Master Snape came and took you away, and that you were ill...”

Harry sighed. “Did Colin happen to mention that he made a pass at me, which included an attempt at a snog?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, he didn’t. But he’ll be hearing from me about it, no matter what you say, Harry Potter!”

Harry sighed, nodding his head. “I know, ‘Mione,” he replied.

“So, we’ll see you for dinner?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded, turning to see Severus, who was standing on the threshold of the room, not taking his eyes off him. “Yes,” Harry told her. “See you later,” he said quickly, cutting the call and the connection, before getting to his feet, and walking over to the man.

“They were checking up on you?”

Harry smiled. “Yeah. They tend to do that.”

Severus smirked. “They’ll likely think I’ve kidnapped you.”

Harry shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“I have you until dinner hour, then?”

Harry moved back and forth upon the balls of his feet. “I suppose so.”

Severus nodded, looking Harry up and down for a moment. “Do you feel up to going upstairs and trying what we were doing previously again?”

Harry smiled slowly at the man. “I do,” he replied. He let out a yelp as Severus suddenly lifted him, in a manner most effortless, and carried him up the stairs, smiling along to Harry’s laughter, although he would never admit to it.


	4. As Much As I’m Worth

Amid Harry’s return to the flat he shared with Ron, both of his best friends set upon him at once, immediately demanding to know what had befallen him the day before, now that they were out of Severus’s earshot. Harry flushed with slight embarrassment and attempted to fend off their questions, finally growing hungry enough to start the roast Hermione had promised himself. As he arranged the boiled potatoes on the baking sheet, prepped the roasting pan, and set to work on the vegetables and Yorkshire puddings, Hermione and Ron stood on the threshold of the kitchen behind him, watching him work and peppering him with questions.

“Harry, did you manage to see Master Snape’s library at all?” queried Hermione. She had brought Crookshanks with her to the flat, as she likely needed her familiar to keep herself calm in the wake of Harry temporarily going missing.

“‘Mione, the library doesn’t matter,” Ron told his girlfriend impatiently. “What I really want to know here, mate, is if the rumors of Master Snape having a state-of-the-art broom collection is a true one,” he said emphatically.

“No, ‘Mione, I didn’t see his library,” Harry replied, seasoning the roast expertly, and never looking over his shoulder. “As for the broom collection, Ron, I doubt the rumor had any solid ground to stand upon. He does have a wine collection, though, in his second cellar, the smaller of the two.”

“The larger one houses his legendary potions lab, doesn’t it, Harry?” Hermione asked, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, inadvertently jostling Crookshanks, who let out a low growl at the treatment.

“An exact replica of the one at the Fiole Bureau, or so he told me,” Harry confirmed. “But we didn’t discuss potions, much. When he took me out, we went to an incredible national park, and he told me where witches and wizards throughout the world are allowed to cultivate the necessary ingredients needed for potions. Did you know that there are special magical sections of national parks, close by the campuses of the wizarding schools, where us magical folk are permitted to harvest plants and flowers?”

“I remember reading something like that in _Magic Through the Ages_ by Ethelyn Twigs, in the section on Potions and Herbology,” Hermione said brightly, and Ron rolled his eyes. “I’m not surprised that someone as knowledgeable as Master Snape knows where to collect things, even in countries that he doesn’t live in. Seems like a prerequisite to enter the Potions Guild, along with inventing or improving potions regularly...”

“You think you’ll have a future with him, mate?” Ron wanted to know.

Harry shrugged as he continued going through the process of making the Sunday roast. “Who’s to know? At least his mother seemed to approve of me...”

“Eileen Prince?!” Hermione practically squealed, to the point where Harry very nearly lost control over what he was doing. “You actually met Eileen Prince?!”

“It’s ‘Snape’ now, and yes,” Harry confirmed, rolling his eyes, but keeping his back turned so that he wouldn’t run the risk of Hermione potentially thwacking him.

“Well, mate, you know how Mum and Dad pretty much approved of Hermione immediately,” said Ron in a cocky manner, to which Hermione muttered under her breath. “If the parents approve of you, the battle is already halfway done.”

“What was she like, Harry?” Hermione wanted to know, stepping fully into the kitchen and moving to stand beside Harry. “Rumor has it that she was Captain of the Gobstones Club while she attended Hogwarts—she was sorted Slytherin while there, of course. Not to mention that she taught Master Snape absolutely everything she knew about potions...”

“She was lovely,” Harry admitted, rolling the potatoes and veg in a bath of butter and various seasonings, before magicking the oven on. “Looked quite a bit like Severus, too—same black hair and piercing eyes, not to mention an exact replica of his skin... She even invited me over for dinner,” he said quietly.

“Blimey, mate—Prince Estate is one of the leading wizarding homes in Britain!” Ron said, and whistled through his teeth with excitement.

“I don’t know if it’s likely to happen, Ron,” Harry said, bending down and putting their dinner into the oven below.

“Why not, Harry?” Hermione asked. “Wizarding etiquette informs magical folk that to extend an invitation insincerely isn’t acceptable...”

“I’m not sure that Master Snape would be comfortable enough to allow me to go to his family home, no matter what the occasion,” Harry responded. “Besides, we’ve only had one full day together, in between his house-elf popping in and out of the vicinity. I hardly think that that, in and of itself, is a commitment...”

Hermione’s brow puckered at Harry’s statement in a moment of concern. “Master Snape hasn’t ever had a formal relationship, Harry...”

“How could you possibly know that, ‘Mione?” Ron asked, staring down at his girlfriend. “The bloke seems to be extremely private...”

“ _Potioneers Through the Ages_ by Lazuli Cassowary, if you must know, Ronald Weasley,” said Hermione impatiently. “Honestly, don’t you read?”

“You know very well that I—”

“Quidditch mags don’t count,” Hermione said, tapping her foot, and Harry gritted his teeth in an attempt to stifle a laugh. She rolled her shoulders, and hopped up onto the counter beside where Harry was standing, while Ron looked on from the threshold of the kitchen. “Just answer me one thing and one thing only, Harry, and we can put this to bed.”

“Depends upon the question,” Harry replied, and Hermione raised her eyebrows. “Severus said that he didn’t want me talking about what we did together...”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Harry!” she cried out.

“You let the bloke shag you, then?!” Ron asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Harry promptly went red and lowered his eyes. “Yes...”

“How was it, then, Harry?” Hermione queried. “You’ve been waiting quite a long time to find someone to shag...”

“It was lovely,” he admitted, before snapping his gaze back upwards to Hermione. “Now, ask me what you want to ask me, so that we can be done with the topic.”

“Do you like him?” Hermione pressed.

Harry scoffed. “What kind of a question is that? I spent the entire day with the man...”

“It could have just been for the shagging, mate,” Ron said, crossing his arms and leaning up against the doorframe of the kitchen. “Merlin knows you’re the last person out of our group of friends who hasn’t done anything...”

Harry gave Ron a two-fingered salute before turning his attention back onto Hermione. “I guess I just don’t understand the question...”

Hermione nodded. “Understandable, considering that you were pretty sheltered from romance as a whole during our formative years,” she said, crossing her legs. “Well, first and foremost, did you enjoy Master Snape’s company?”

Harry gave a small smile at the institution of it then. “I did. Even when he wasn’t discussing potions with me, or even when we lapsed into momentary silence... Yes. There was never a dull moment with Severus.”

“That’s promising,” Ron put in.

“It certainly is,” Hermione told him. “Some people think that the initial awkwardness of silences will never go away, and so they never get onto the horse, so to speak. The horse, in this situation, being the relationship...”

Harry smirked. “Somehow, I figured that out, ‘Mione...”

“However,” Hermione continued, “the notion that you yourself admitted to not only being comfortable, but actually seeming to welcome the silences in between discussion topics... Most individuals who are romantically involved, in many respects, have to wait for years to actually accomplish that.”

“Even ‘Mione and I still aren’t perfect,” Ron admitted. “Sometimes, I even think she’s angry at me whenever one or both of us goes quiet...”

Hermione grinned at him. “Sometimes I am angry with you, Ronald.”

Ron smirked right back at her. “Still, makes the making up all the more—”

“Okay!” Harry said quickly, interrupting the two of them and shaking his head. “That’s enough of that, thank you. I really don’t need to picture my best mates, who are effectively like my brother and sister, going at it...”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps leave off the sibling relationship next time, Harry,” she said softly. “I really don’t wish to consider Ron as my brother...”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I’m with you, ‘Mione...”

“So,” Hermione said, quickly moving to change the subject, “you like him, then?”

Harry sighed, bending to check on the roast for a moment before he nodded his head. “Yes, Hermione, I like him,” he replied, and raised his hand into the air to summon the table linens and things. “Now, then... Let’s get dinner on the road, then, shall we?”

~*~

Harry yanked at his dress robes for the graduation ceremony, cursing Merlin and Circe for deciding that wool was an appropriate fabric for them. July had dawned officially that day, and it was hotter than Harry had remembered it being since he first began at Hogwarts. He was garbed in robes of red and purple, the official colors of his university, and knew that Ron was likely putting on his in the next room. Hermione, who would be graduating later on that afternoon, was to be wearing silk robes in the colors of blue and green, and Harry envied the notion that girls were permitted a more cooling fabric.

He was grateful to Molly Weasley, who had considerately sent out invitations to both his and Ron’s graduation ceremony, and was pleased at the notion that he would have some people in the crowd cheering him on. Remus and Tonks had confirmed with Teddy, and Baby Hope would be placed into the care of Andromeda and Ted, Tonks’s parents, for the day. With them, plus the Weasleys, and Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore in attendance on his behalf, Harry felt pleased that he wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Ready to go, mate?” Ron asked, stepping into Harry’s bedroom.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, trying and failing to flatten down his hair. Rolling his eyes, he put on the golden banner upon his shoulders, signifying where he was graduating from, and placed his cap upon his head. “Ready.”

Ron smiled and walked over to the Floo, which they would utilize to get into the Entrance Hall at Flarmerth Academy. The Floo expanded on their behalf, and Harry and Ron shouted out their destination, before they were swallowed up in a mess of green flames. Moments later, they were spat out in the Entrance Hall, and were equally relieved to spot Neville, Dean, and Seamus all waiting to step into the corridor with them.

“Is your gran coming today, Neville?” Harry asked as they all fell in line, barely listening to Ron, Dean, and Seamus nattering on about the next season of the Chudley Cannons.

“She said she wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Neville said with a smile. “Told me herself that she was proud of me, only just this morning.”

“And your apprenticeship with Sprout?”

“She’s pleased that I got the necessary qualifications,” Neville responded. “Hey, the man who’s speaking today at the ceremony... He’s the one you interviewed for Ron, right?”

Harry nodded at Neville. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Professor Sprout mentioned him a few times to me during our initial meetings, wherein she assessed to see how qualified I was to become her apprentice,” Neville said softly. “She said that he’s one of the youngest, and possibly the greatest, potion masters of Britain.”

Harry nodded. “That’s right.”

“Possibly the Wizarding World,” Neville said, clearly in awe. “Have you spoken much to him? I heard that Ron managed to secure a photo session with him...”

Harry nodded again. “Yeah, I have spoken to him. He actually invited me out for tea after the photo session,” he said softly.

“Blimey,” Neville said, clearly impressed. “What I wouldn’t do to pick his brain about medicinal plants... I’m sure he knows plenty.”

Harry smiled. “I’m sure he does, Nev.”

Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and the rest of the forthcoming graduates fell in line easily, with one of the Assistant Headmistresses, Charity Burbage, the former Muggle Studies professor for Hogwarts, gently reminding them to stand alphabetically. The other Assistant Headmistress, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, stood by, making sure to direct the students accordingly. The Headmaster of Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry, Barty Crouch, Sr., had left his job at the Ministry of Magic, and had seemed to thrive in the academic setting. Headmaster Crouch was currently in a Floo call with Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Headmistress Emmeline Vance of Vaenmiara Academia of Witchcraft, who were all coordinating safety for the upcoming graduation ceremonies.

Once the formal ceremonial music began, Harry quickly fell in line with the rest of the gentlemen graduating from Flermerth that day, and was pleased to see that Headmaster Crouch was sitting in one of the “important” seats upon the stage. Others were occupied by Headmistress Vance, Minister Shacklebolt, Deputy Minister Alastor Moody, and Severus himself. Harry found his assigned seat, and noticed that he was sitting with Theodore Nott upon his left and Oliver Rivers upon his right. They had been in corresponding years to him at Hogwarts, except Nott had been a Slytherin and Rivers a Ravenclaw, so they’d merely shared a handful of classes together over the years and not much else. Ron was a couple of rows back, sitting close to Dean, while Neville and Seamus were grouped together a bit further towards the front.

The Graduation Hall was done up in impressive dark wood paneling, with a ceiling which was several stories high, curved elegantly in a perfectly circular shape, and supported by beams made of the finest spun golden gilt. While it was called the Graduation Hall, it was also set aside for all extremely formal events at the school. The chairs were magically cleared out several times a year whenever a ball was to take place on campus, and Harry remembered many a time when he was standing beside the punch bowl, watching Ron and Hermione dance, and Neville and Luna gleefully doing whatever it was they did on the dancefloor. The punch had been dubbed “Autumn Harvest”, and was one of the rare non-alcoholic brews sold by Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, procured by Ron from Fred and George for the occasion; it had been delightful, especially after Harry had used his own personal flask of Firewhiskey to have his own party, once he had left the ball.

Other functions peppered the school calendar as well, such as lectures from leading experts in various magical fields; feasts on popular wizarding holidays—which were mainly put in place for students who wouldn’t be able to afford them themselves, or who opted to stay at the school during the holidays for whatever reason; or for presentations for their final examinations for their degrees, which would be overseen by a panel of experts, who would then determine if said student was worthy of the degree they were pursuing. It was there that Ron had performed, as well as all the others in his course, for his Combat Degree, as well as eligibility to enter the Auror Academy upon graduation. Harry, meanwhile, had just sat formal exams and had written a paper or two, and had been relieved that he didn’t have to show himself off, as it were. He would morosely mutter to himself that Ron had to literally pimp himself out to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and while Fred and George thought Harry’s words were funny, it had been Hermione who had smacked Harry, telling him to hush up and show some respect for the ancient ritual of the Auror Selection.

Harry straightened up in his assigned seat as the music finally faded out from the classical wizarding band—Harry thought they were called Flight of the Cellos, and he knew quite well that the lead singer was Crow Passel, who had been a Prefect for Ravenclaw House when Harry was a first-year at Hogwarts. Pushing the thought from his mind and peering closer at the stage in front of the room, he noticed that Crouch was speaking briefly to those around him, before he, at last, got to his feet and made his way over to the podium, his dress robes similar to that of the graduating class, although they were trimmed with white ermine, so as to show off that he was Headmaster of Flarmerth Academy.

Crouch casted _Sonorous_ upon himself and began to speak. “Good afternoon graduates, family, friends, and our special guests this afternoon, including the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore,” Crouch began, and the headmaster quickly bowed his head, “Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Moody,” he continued, and Minister Shacklebolt beamed at everyone, while Deputy Minister Moody merely nodded in a gruff manner at those present, “and, at last, to our special guest speaker, Potions Master Severus Snape,” he said, and there were some sighs throughout the hall, before a round of applause for every guest was given. “Now, we shall begin with a brief word from our beloved minister and his deputy, followed by Headmaster Dumbledore’s annual address, and, finally, Master Snape’s prepared speech to you all. Following that, we will hand out diplomas, and you will be announced as the Flarmerth graduating class of 2002,” Crouch said, beaming with pride. “I will formally hand it over to Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Moody now,” he said, and swept backwards, leading to the dual heads of the wizarding government to step forward.

Harry found that he could barely keep his attention primed to that of the minister and his deputy, knowing entirely well that they were disappointed in him. They had mentioned to him more than once over the years that his father, in the three years he had been permitted to do so, had been an excellent Auror. Seeing Harry’s marks both during and after Hogwarts, while he was attending Flarmerth, exceeded everyone’s expectations, and so they naturally believed that he too would want to pursue a degree in combat, thus gaining entry into the Auror Academy. Harry, however, still haunted by the flash of green light, plus Bellatrix Lestrange murdering one of his godfather’s in front of him, found that he couldn’t stomach even the thought of a career within the world of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He straightened up in his chair again, his stomach churning with guilt, hating that they could make him feel this way. It was his life, and, by Merlin, he would live it however he liked.

Once Shacklebolt and Moody had retreated back into their seats, Headmaster Dumbledore got to his feet and began to address the class. He spoke warmly about how they had all traveled through the walls of Hogwarts at one time or another, and how proud he was at seeing them succeed in their chosen fields that day. Further, he said that today was merely a stepping stone, paving the way to their journey into the real world, and that they wouldn’t be sorry for stepping into the world of further education, instead of jumping ship immediately upon commencement from Hogwarts four years previously. Thanking them for being wonderful students, both to him and to Headmaster Crouch, their former headmaster returned to his seat, positively beaming at Severus, who then got to his feet as well.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat then as Severus went towards the center point of the stage, and flawlessly casted _Sonorous_ upon himself. Harry could feel his heart beating in his ears, as the man’s eyes appeared to find his from within the crowd of other twenty-somethings who were receiving their eligibility to enter the real world. A moment of silence passed forth between the two of them, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, if he could be all that Severus needed him to be.

“Good afternoon,” Severus said, speaking at last, and allowing his eyes to drift from Harry and survey the room before him. “It is an honor and a privilege to be able to speak to so many young gentlemen, just about to make their way out into the world. You may be under the impression that, based on my success, that I myself came from a loving and supportive family. While many of you, I hope, had that while growing up, I myself did not. My own father, a Muggle, is an alcoholic, who would spend any spare quid he had from his position at the mill at the local pub down the road. As for my mother, she is a Pureblood, who gave up her magic willingly in order to appease my father, until she reclaimed her inheritance, and then he didn’t seem to mind much anymore. There were many years, before my Hogwarts years and during the school-sanctioned holidays wherein I was required to return to the council estate of Spinner’s End, where I knew hunger constantly. I was instructed early on in my life not to speak until I was spoken to, and so I became withdrawn. When I arrived at Hogwarts, I did have one friend, although she was sorted into Gryffindor, and inter-house rivalries attempted to ruin the friendship we had spent years building before our education began. I discovered potions, and became proficient at it, although the rumors that I myself knew too much about the Dark Arts plagued me. While I did go on to receive a second mastery in the Dark Arts, I never intended to use the subject for evil. And so, I stand before you all today, likely with you all tasting hope upon your tongues, and I want you all to know that success and a loving environment do not necessarily go hand in hand. Also, you may not pick your family, but you may pick your friends, which I am quite positive all of you have many here today. I wish you all a heartfelt congratulations, and I extremely look forward to seeing you all entering the Wizarding World in the respective fields that you all have chosen. I wish you good luck, and happiness,” Severus said solemnly, before he turned around, cancelled the charm, and returned to his seat.

Crouch got back to his feet then, and an ornately-carved table appeared on one end of the stage, with pieces of rolled parchment upon it, and ribbons denoting which program the student had graduated from. He inclined his head, and Harry and the rest of the students quickly got to their feet and fell in line at the steps of the stage. “Terry Boot,” he said, mentioning a Ravenclaw from Harry’s time at Hogwarts, who promptly went onstage, and took the offered diploma, and went around to shake everyone’s hand. “Kevin Entwhistle,” Crouch went on.

Harry waited patiently for his name to be called; it would be done after Seamus and Neville’s names, but Dean and Ron were situated somewhere behind him. Worrying his lower lip, he stepped upon the stage when Headmaster Crouch called his name, and Harry quickly smiled at the cheers that rippled forth throughout the hall, and made his way towards the man.

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter,” said Headmaster Crouch.

“Thank you, Headmaster Crouch,” Harry said, beaming as he looped the ribbon on his cap to the other direction, and took the parchment on offer; it had a green ribbon etched with silver, signifying that he was a recipient of an English Literature, Wizarding & Muggle Degree. He made his way through the team of men, shaking Minister Shacklebolt and Deputy Minister Moody’s hand, and was relieved that neither of them said anything about their disappointment in Harry not joining the Auror Department. Further, he shook Headmaster Dumbledore’s hand, whose pale blue eyes twinkled at him as he moved towards Severus.

“Congratulations, Harry,” said Severus, his voice as velvety and wonderful as ever.

“Thank you,” Harry said, grinning from ear to ear as he looked up at the man.

Severus reached out and slowly took ahold of Harry’s hand, and Harry quickly wondered if the man was using Legilimency on him. “I still have yet to receive your answer...”

Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed within his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, hoping that he wasn’t holding up the line too much. “I don’t know yet...”

“Did you not have a pleasant time with me, Harry?”

Harry felt his face flush as he lowered his eyes. “It was the best day of my life...”

Severus squeezed his hand gently, causing Harry to lock eyes with his. “Can we just try it my way, Harry? Please?” he asked.

“All right,” Harry said promptly, before he could attempt to second-guess himself.

Severus blinked. “All right?” he whispered.

Harry grinned at him, a light chuckle escaping his throat, as he dragged his thumb over Severus’s hand and let it go, before making his way off the other side of the stage. He returned to his seat and awaited the rest of the graduates, before Headmaster Crouch declared them the graduating class of 2002. Harry promptly launched to his feet, tossing his cap into the air like the rest of them, before assigned house-elves of the university appeared to take their caps and gowns back to their respective homes. Harry and Ron quickly found each other in the crowd, and dashed off to find the Weasleys and the Lupins.

“Oh, my boys!” Molly Weasley cried out as soon as she spotted Harry and Ron, once they had stepped into the reception area on the inside of the Graduation Hall. Lurching forward, she embraced the pair of them and kissed their cheeks, before releasing them both to Hermione, who had charged forward as well.

“Ron, Harry!” she cried, kissing Harry on the cheek and squeezing him, before letting him go and was suddenly swept into Ron’s arms and kissed passionately.

“We need to talk once all of this is over,” Ron said softly to Hermione.

Hermione flushed pink, her brown eyes shining as she nodded up at him. “Whatever you want, Ron, whatever you want...”

Harry took the opportunity to make his way over to Remus, Tonks, Teddy, and Baby Hope, while the rest of the Weasleys crowded around Dean to congratulate him. Harry promptly stepped into Remus’s embrace, feeling secure in one of his surrogate father’s arms. “Thanks for coming,” he said softly, pulling away, and looking to Tonks, who handed over Baby Hope to him, and he grinned. “I thought your mum was going to be looking after her...”

“Teddy said that Hope would love it,” Tonks said, running her fingers through Teddy’s hair, which was currently a canary-yellow.

“Hope loves Uncle Harry!” Teddy chimed in.

Remus growled playfully under his breath, and scooped up Teddy in his arms. “And after all the headmasters involved gave us permission for Hope to attend...” He shrugged. “We thought it would be a good idea...”

Tonks grinned and rolled her eyes. “Albus has predicted that Teddy will be sorted Hufflepuff, and that Hope will make Gryffindor,” she explained to Harry.

Harry chuckled and lowered his eyes to his first goddaughter. He smiled automatically when she opened her eyes, still dark in her babyhood, and offered her a finger, which she promptly grabbed and latched onto. “Hello, Hope,” he cooed, and Hope blinked up at him, never showing any signs of distress.

“She’s an exceptionally well-behaved child,” Tonks put in, as Ron and Hermione approached from behind Harry. Tonks stepped towards Hermione and hugged her, while Remus shook Ron’s hand, permitting Teddy to throw himself into Ron’s arms.

“Uncle Ron, Uncle Ron!” Teddy cheered, looping his arms around his neck.

“Hello, monster,” Ron said sarcastically, and Teddy grinned up at him. “How was your very first graduation ceremony, then?”

Teddy’s brow wrinkled. “Want a hat,” he said softly.

Hermione giggled. “You get them when you graduate from Hogwarts,” she explained, and Teddy turned to look at her. “Each cap has a special ribbon tied to it—scarlet for Gryffindor, navy for Ravenclaw, bumblebee for Hufflepuff, and emerald for Slytherin,” she recited patiently. “You also have much broader ribbons to wear around your shoulders for varying accomplishments, like high marks, making prefect, or making Head Boy or Head Girl...”

“Give the kid a break, ‘Mione,” Ron said with a chuckle.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and looked longingly at Baby Hope. “Oh, Tonks, Remus, she’s so beautiful,” she said, a smile taking up most of her face.

“Go ahead, Hermione,” Remus said, and Tonks nodded. “She’s your goddaughter, after all. I would think that the pair of you will have to get better-acquainted eventually.”

Hermione let a gasp fall from her lips as Harry carefully handed Baby Hope over to her, and she settled promptly into her arms, gently reaching upwards and tangling her tiny fingers into the ringlets of Hermione’s hair.

“Harry,” said a voice from behind them, and Harry felt his heart skipping a beat when Severus came close, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Hi,” Harry said, his attention completely caught up in Severus.

Ron grinned automatically from where he stood by, still retaining his hold on Teddy. “Remus, Tonks, have you met Severus Snape, Harry’s boyfriend?” he asked, grinning.

Hermione stared at Ron, mouth agape, as if wondering where her own boyfriend had gotten the information that Harry’s relationship status had changed.

“Boyfriend?” Teddy whispered with a grin, and covered his mouth with his hands.

“We’ve met,” Remus said quickly, smiling, and Harry was relieved to see that it met his kind, brown eyes as he reached out his hand towards the potions master. “Severus, it’s been quite a few years since Hogwarts.”

“It has been,” Severus replied, retaining his hold upon Harry’s waist, but extending his free hand to shake Remus’s. “I was very sorry to hear about Black’s death.”

“May I introduce Nymphadora Tonks, my wife?” Remus asked, pulling Severus’s attention away from him and onto Tonks.

“Tonks, please, Master Snape,” she said quickly, with a charismatic smile as she stepped slightly forward, and took Severus’s offered hand.

“Ah, yes. A very successful Auror, if I recall correctly,” Severus said, clearly impressed. “You were Black’s cousin, were you not?”

“Through my mother, yes,” Tonks replied with a nod.

“You’re also a Metamorphmagus,” Severus went on, fascinated with the young witch. “It’s amazing how many potions effects that you are able to counteract.”

Tonks readily grinned. “It’s a gift,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders and turning towards Ron and Hermione. “Ron you know, of course. This is his girlfriend and Harry’s best friend, Hermione Granger.”

“I’ve heard at length from Albus how bright and gifted you are, Miss Granger,” Severus said with a small smile, but made no move to shake her hand, due to them being preoccupied with holding Baby Hope. “And is this your daughter?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Hermione said quickly, and smiled. “This is Hope Lupin,” she explained, and turned to Teddy, still in Ron’s arms, “and this is her big brother, Teddy.”

“They’re my godchildren,” Harry replied, and Severus smiled, and reached towards Teddy, which directly caused Harry’s heart to leap.

“Hello, Teddy,” the potions master said.

Teddy promptly took Severus’s hand and shook it carefully. “You’re the potions man that Harry loves!” he declared.

Harry felt himself going red. “Teddy...” He whispered, silently begging his godson to understand that love was nowhere near what was going on between himself and Severus. Of course, not on the end of the potions master. To Harry, he could perfectly see himself falling head over wand for the older man, and such a thought frightened him beyond belief...

“Is that so?” Severus asked, arching an eyebrow at the child.

“Severus, you know as well as I do that children and young people alike will frequently say things that are out of line in some way,” Remus put in, and gave Teddy a _look_ , prompting the small child to burrow further into Ron’s arms.

“Well,” Hermione said as Tonks reached out and took Baby Hope from her, “Ron and I are meeting my parents in Muggle London to celebrate. I’m Muggleborn,” she explained quickly to Severus, who arched an eyebrow further.

“Indeed?” he asked.

“They’re dentists, and have their own practice in Cumbria, where I grew up. They’re down in London for the week for my own graduation,” she said, her cheeks flushing.

“And where will you and Mr. Weasley be dining this evening, Miss Granger?” Severus asked conversationally, watching avidly as Ron carefully handed over Teddy to Remus.

“Franco’s,” Hermione said softly. “We all love Italian, and Ron’s never had the Muggle version of it.”

“Yes, I quite understand your meaning, Miss Granger,” Severus told her, the barest hint of a smile gracing his lips.

“We’d better hurry, else we’ll miss our Portkey, ‘Mione!” Ron said, taking Hermione by the hand and nodding to all those present. “Pleasure to see you again, Master Snape. We’ll see you soon Remus, Tonks, Teddy, Hope... Harry, I likely won’t be back at the flat tonight...”

“No problem,” Harry said quickly. “You go out and have fun.”

Ron grinned at him. “Thanks, mate,” he said, as Hermione stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“Don’t forget to have fun tonight, too, Harry,” she whispered, before Ron whisked her away to say goodbye to the Weasleys before they took their Portkey out of there.

Harry went through the movements of polite conversation, before Remus and Tonks excused themselves to have dinner with Andromeda. Harry turned to Severus as they left, surprised that he hadn’t moved away from him. “Well...”

“Well, indeed,” Severus replied, smirking good-naturedly.

“Pardon me, Master Snape,” said a familiar voice, and Harry’s heart hammered from within his chest when he noticed that Cormac McLaggen was standing there, doing his final duties for the newspaper by getting shots of the graduation event. “Picture, please?” he asked, holding up an impressive wizarding camera.

Harry was about to pull out of the frame, thinking that Cormac would just want a shot of Severus on his own—especially due to the drooling vibes that he was currently giving him—but Severus proceeded to surprise him. Looping his arm all the more firmly around Harry’s waist, he pulled him lengthwise against him, and smirked at the camera. Harry forced a smile onto his lips as the camera flashed, before he was being pulled away from the crowd of people in the reception hall and into the corridor outside.

“Have you any obligatory plans for this evening?” Severus asked.

Harry shook his head. “No. Normally, there’s a formal dinner at the Weasleys, but they decided to wait until after the ceremony for Hermione tomorrow...”

Severus nodded. “I see,” he replied, cupping Harry’s face with one hand, and allowing the pad of his thumb to drag along Harry’s lower lip, and smirked slightly. “I’ve a potion to return to, but the Stasis Charm should hold. If you are not against it, perhaps you wouldn’t mind adjourning to your flat for a time, showing me around?”

Harry smiled up at the man. “Yeah, of course,” he said, motioning with his head for the man to follow him down the corridor, towards the entryway, where the Floo’s were kept. “It’s Potter-Weasley Flat,” he explained.

“Very good,” Severus said, whispering, “ _Engorgio_ ,” and pulled Harry gently to his side once again, and dipped his long, tapered fingers into the provided jar of Floo Powder. The bricks of the ancient Floo opened and widened themselves, thus permitting the pair of them to step inside of the oval-shaped structure together. Retaining his hold upon Harry, Severus uttered, “Potter-Weasley Flat!” and the green flames promptly enveloped them.

Harry managed to step out into the living room of the flat and casted a quick, “ _Scourgify_ ,” without completely embarrassing himself. Smiling over his shoulder at Severus, who did the same, he walked into the kitchen and summoned the elf-made wine he had gotten from Remus and Tonks as a graduation present. “Want some?” he asked.

Severus’s eyes gleamed at the expensive-looking bottle. “Please,” he replied.

Harry grinned at him and uncorked the bottle, pouring them equal measures into the crystal-cut wine goblets Hermione had picked out for the flat. “Here you are,” he said, handing over the goblet, and shuddered momentarily as Severus’s fingers brushed his.

“Thank you,” Severus said, tipping his head. “Congratulations, Harry,” he said, raising his glass, and Harry did the same.

“Thank you, Severus,” he said, a flush blooming upon his cheeks as he brought the goblet to his lips, the taste of elderberry, currants, mocha, and cloves exploding upon his tongue. “Mmm,” he said softly. “I’m used to Firewhiskey...”

“Are you now?” Severus queried.

“Not typically,” Harry confessed with a small smile. “Butterbeer is what _The Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_ think I drink, but it’s not true...”

“Is that so?”

“On very special occasions, yes,” Harry admitted, “but, in the more every day, typical sense, you can spot me drinking pumpkin juice.”

“I seem to recall an editorial in _The Quibbler_ saying something about that...”

“Luna Lovegood, Xenophilius’s daughter, is a good friend of mine,” Harry explained. “She was one year behind me at Hogwarts, a Ravenclaw. She’s been with a close mate of mine, Neville Longbottom, for ages...”

“Ah, so the friendship runs as deep as the waters of truth,” Severus said with an approving nod and a small smile. “I am aware of young Master Longbottom. I am on close terms with Pomona Sprout, Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff House, as I’m sure you remember. She did inform me that she had primed Master Longbottom for the position as her apprentice, and, one day, her successor.”

“Neville mentioned that he’d love to discuss medicinal plants with you, and their benefits to potions,” Harry told him.

A smile played at the corners of Severus’s mouth. “Is that so?” the man asked again. “Well, I shall be sure to send him an owl to meet for tea the next time I am at Hogwarts. It will be good to speak to someone as gifted as Pomona thinks.”

“Just don’t talk to him too much about potions,” Harry said quietly, swirling the wine about in his goblet.

“Whyever not?”

“He’s the one who was always intimidated by Professor Slughorn,” Harry explained, and he felt uneasy as he saw Severus’s eyes darken ever so slightly. “We none of us knew why—Ron, Hermione, Dean, Seamus... We were all in the same year, and the same house, so you would think that we would figure out something...”

“Is Miss Lovegood aware of his feelings towards your former potions professor?”

Harry worried his lower lip again. “I think so, but she hasn’t told us. Luna’s the type of person who thinks that, if a secret isn’t yours to tell, then you shouldn’t speak about it.”

“Wise thinking. It is unsurprising that she is a Ravenclaw,” Severus put in.

“That’s true,” Harry said, giving the man a small nod.

“Was this wine a gift for your graduation?” the man asked, changing the subject, a small smile upon his lips once more.

Harry nodded. “Yes, it was. From Remus and Tonks... While she is on maternity leave from the ministry, money’s tight...”

“Ah, yes. I am aware of Remus’s...affliction with the full moon,” the man observed quietly, no hint of condemnation in his tone.

“Yes,” Harry said softly. “As such, it’s difficult for him to get a job. I gave them one of my properties—a cottage in Godric’s Hollow—and it’s got a soundproof outbuilding on the property, which is done up heavily with wards by the Curse-Breakers at Gringotts,” he went on, hoping not to bore the man. “Bill, Ron’s oldest brother, and his wife, Fleur, set them up, as they’re heads of their unit at the bank...”

“You gave them the property that...?”

“That my parents were murdered in, yes,” Harry responded. “Remus didn’t mind; I think it makes him feel closer to them...”

“I had heard that most moneys and such weren’t given to heirs until certain obligations on the part of the heirs themselves had been made.”

“You’re correct,” Harry said.

“And what were the obligations set forth by your mother and father?”

“At eighteen, I got the property at Godric’s Hollow, and any and all money I would need to pay for university,” Harry explained. “I also got a stipend to pay for a decent flat, which is where we are currently standing. I gave Remus and Tonks the property, just after I graduated from Hogwarts, because they were living with her mother at the time, and Teddy was still an infant and likely needed his own space.”

“Yes, I see,” Severus said.

“I was told that furthering my education would get me all the money I would ever need, but that I didn’t necessarily have to do anything with the degree,” Harry continued. “I still don’t know. I just picked English Literature because I like to read.”

Severus smirked. “Well, it isn’t the worst degree in the world.”

Harry snorted around a mouthful of wine. “Thank you,” he said, unsure if he should take the man’s words as a compliment or not. “Anyhow, they gave me the final stipulations on my last birthday, my twenty-first, and told me that I had a meeting set with a goblin as soon as I got my degree, to view the contents of my vault. I’ll also likely get out of my lease here, because Ron and Hermione want to live together, and I’ll have a fair few properties to look over once I have the meeting...”

Severus stepped forward, taking the glass of wine from Harry’s hands and setting it aside. “And while I find all of this extremely fascinating,” he drawled, causing gooseflesh to prickle up and down Harry’s arms, “I have yet to give you my gift.”

“Your...? No,” Harry said quickly, shaking his head. “Severus, you didn’t...”

Severus smirked, which directly cut Harry off. “There were a few people I spoke to about you once I made your acquaintance,” he explained, and Harry’s brows drew together at that. “In my discussions, I learned several things about you.”

“Such as?”

“Such as your proficient Quidditch career while at Hogwarts,” the man said. “A first-year making the team and becoming Seeker, the youngest in the century...”

Harry flushed to his ears. “It wasn’t a big deal...”

“Perhaps, until they saw you flying,” Severus said. “First a Nimbus 2000, and then the Firebolt your third-year after the Whomping Willow destroyed your first broom.”

Harry rolled back and forth onto the balls of his feet. “Checking up on me, were you?” he asked, and gave the man a rueful smile.

“It appears I was, yes,” the man said, reaching into his robes and drawing out a wrapped package, tapping it once with his wand, which enlarged it, and handed it over to Harry. “I hope you like it.”

Harry blinked, gazing at the suspiciously broom-shaped package, and brought it over to the coffee table, untying the loops of the twists upon the wrapping. He drew back as the boom came completely into view, the wooden stick much smoother and finer than that of his current broom, and the wisps of the broom angle seeming to be a bit less tangled. Looking up, he saw the words _Firebolt Supreme_ were etched in gold lettering upon the top of the broom. Rolling his fingers back into his fists, Harry shook his head.

“Severus, that’s a broom,” he said, clearly stating the obvious.

“Indeed it is,” Severus responded.

“How...? It’s not supposed to hit the market until Christmas,” Harry said; at least, that’s what the latest reports had said, as it had been backlogged for two years, and now the estimated release date was December 2002 until December 2005. “I...”

“Do you like it, Harry?” Severus asked.

“I just don’t understand how you managed to come by it,” Harry admitted.

“A client who makes the Firebolt line needed a pretty extreme potion, one which would save his life, although I am not at liberty to discuss it further,” Severus said softly.

Harry’s eyes whipped around so that he was facing Severus. “Please tell me that you didn’t blackmail him—!”

Severus promptly shook his head. “Of course not, Harry. In lieu of payment, and with his full permission, I told him I wanted it...”

“Did you tell him it was for me?” Harry asked bitterly.

“I told him it was for someone extremely special to me, but I didn’t elaborate as to who it was for specifically, no,” the man told him.

Harry sucked hard on his bottom lip. “Sirius... My godfather gave me my Firebolt, and that, as well as 12 Grimmauld Place, are all I’ve left of him...”

“I see,” Severus said.

Harry slowly turned to face Severus again. “I’m sorry I accused you,” he said, “and I apologize for thinking that your client merely gave you the broom because it was intended initially as a gift for me...”

“Perhaps you have been interacting far too much with fellow Gryffindors, ones who would seek to drive us apart,” Severus said quietly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s not—!”

Severus promptly crossed the room then and grabbed Harry, dragging him face-down and onto his lap. “I don’t know if I’ve told you this, Harry,” Severus said, his voice deathly calm as he held Harry in place, “but I find that eye rolling is the sign of utmost disrespect. Not only have you accused me unjustly of blackmail, but you have also taken the notion of me being generous with you as a sign that the public wishes to take advantage of you.”

“Severus...”

“Further,” the man went on, holding Harry in place despite his squirming, “the aforementioned eye rolling will not go unpunished.”

Harry felt his mouth go dry. “What...?” He whispered, nearly trembling.

“Now, then,” the man said softly, and proceeded to caress Harry’s arse with his strong hand, “I believe that the punishment should fit the crime. As you have acted childishly, you will now be punished using a method befitting a child.”

Harry began to squirm. “Please...”

“Oh, yes, please, Harry,” Severus said, and Harry could hear the smirk in his voice as he dragged down his trousers, but permitted his boxers to remain where they were. “I suspect that you’ll definitely be pleased by this.”

Harry said nothing, and merely stared at the floor.

“That’s better,” Severus said. “Ten strokes, I feel.”

“S-strokes?” Harry stammered.

“Strokes, spankings, whatever you wish to call them,” Severus said offhandedly. “Now, we shall begin,” he said, and lifted his hand.

Harry flinched as the blow came down, a slight grunt of protest creeping out of his lips, as a trembling shudder rippled through him.

“Count them, Harry.”

“One,” Harry whispered.

“Good boy,” Severus praised, lifting his hand again, and brought it down, smacking Harry firmly on his arse.

“Two,” Harry managed to get out.

Severus smoothed the ache for a moment before bringing up his hand again, and smacked both cheeks of his arse. “Go on, Harry. Count them.”

“Three and four,” Harry said, gritting his teeth.

“Wonderful,” Severus said. He repeatedly brought his hand down, and didn’t need to remind Harry to count.

“Seven,” Harry breathed.

“Good boy... Again,” he said, and smacked Harry hard enough to bruise, and Harry felt the tears spring to his eyes on that one.

“Eight... Nine,” he said, as the blow came sooner than expected.

“One more, Harry,” Severus said, and brought his hand down as hard as he could, it seemed, and Harry very nearly collapsed upon his lap, trembling.

“Ten,” Harry whispered.

Severus lifted him up then, and they stood opposite one another. “You did wonderfully, Harry,” he praised, and held him close for a moment, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Think of how well that bodes for our future...”

“Y-yeah,” Harry said, the words catching in his throat.

“Harry, are you all right?” Severus asked, pulling back. “You’re crying...”

“No,” Harry said, breaking away, “I’m fine. I’m just tired...”

Severus appeared as if he wanted to say more, but he took out his wand and casted a Tempus Charm, and swore under his breath. “I’ve got to get back to my potion now, Harry...”

Harry nodded, breathing in deeply before turning to face the man, hoping beyond hope that he didn’t appear to be as wretched as he felt. “I understand.”

Severus crossed over to him, and cupped his face in his hands. “Are you sure you’re all right now, Harry?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I’m all right.”

Severus sighed, clearly understanding when he was unable to communicate with Harry further, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll owl you soon, all right?”

Harry forced a smile onto his face. “All right,” he whispered, watching as Severus stepped away from him, and Apparated away. Walking away from the Firebolt Supreme on the coffee table, Harry crossed the room to the Floo, and, kneeling before it, called out, “Lupin Cottage,” and waited for the flames to open a connection.

“Harry?”

“Hi, Remus,” Harry said, hoping he didn’t sound too terrible.

“I thought you’d be out with Severus tonight.”

“No, he... He had a potion. We had a glass of wine beforehand, but he...he had to go,” Harry managed to say, though his voice shook.

“Harry, is everything all right?”

“Fine, it’s fine,” Harry said quickly. “I just...”

Remus stared at him for a few moments before he spoke again. “Harry, love, would you like to come to the cottage this weekend?”

Harry shuddered, the gasp rolling through him before he could call it back. “Yes,” he said with a nod. “After Hermione’s ceremony tomorrow and the dinner at the Burrow, I’ve no plans until the goblins need to see me at Gringotts.”

Remus smiled through the flames. “All right, then. I’ll let Tonks and Teddy know that you’re coming, and we’ll make up the guest room.”

“Remus, I can stay at the inn...”

“Nonsense, you’re practically our child, too,” Remus said quickly, and Harry promptly flushed at the man’s words. “We’ll talk more when you get here, all right?”

Harry nodded. “All right...”

“Is that a broom?” Remus asked, peering around Harry.

“Yeah... Severus got me a Firebolt Supreme,” Harry said quietly.

Remus smiled. “That was generous of him.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, lowering his eyes as he tried and failed to blink the tears away, “very generous...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Magic Through the Ages by Ethelyn Twigs and Potioneers Through the Ages by Lazuli Cassowary are not real books or authors
> 
> (2) Here is the Grangers’ home in Cumbria: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-95516942.html


	5. Push My Buttons

Harry stood at the Apparition Point at the Burrow, staring into the lake which surrounded it, the cat tails blowing seamlessly in the summer breeze. He was, yet again, lost in thought. His arse still pained him from where Severus had swatted him the night before, and he just couldn’t wrap his head around what had happened. _Still_ , he thought to himself as he made no move to move from his current position, _didn’t I ask for this_?

He recalled his attempts to get in touch with Severus in the hours leading up to Hermione’s graduation, in the hopes that the two of them could potentially clear the air. He knew how important Severus’s work was to him, and that, whatever potion he had been brewing, was likely something extraordinary. However, when he got ahold of Penelope, his front desk secretary, he had been in for a rude awakening.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Penelope had said warmly into the Floo. “How may I help you?”

Harry had swallowed, uncomfortable with the bubbly behavior. “I was looking for Severus,” he said, hoping that he was permitted to call him by his first name to others.

“Ah, I’m afraid Master Snape is unavailable,” Penelope said politely. “He finished a rather volatile potion he’d been working on for weeks just after midnight, and he’s going to dinner with Professor Horace Slughorn this evening,” she told him.

Harry blinked; he recalled how Severus had acted whenever Professor Slughorn was mentioned to him, and something shifted within him as he considered it. “Professor Slughorn?” he asked, hating that he was repeating himself.

“Oh, yes,” Penelope said with a nod. “Master Snape learned at Professor Slughorn’s knee while he attended Hogwarts, as Professor Slughorn was his Head of House,” she said patiently. “Even after he graduated, while not as close as they previously had been, naturally, Master Snape always consulted with Professor Slughorn whenever he is working on something new. I expect they’ll be going to dinner this evening to celebrate,” she said brightly.

“Dinner?”

“Well, of course,” Penelope said. “Professor Slughorn is, after all, his mentor, and his closest confident imaginable...”

Harry vaguely heard the kitchen door to the Burrow opening from behind him, and he hoped to Merlin that it wasn’t Molly, begging him to come inside. He needn’t have worried, though, for when the pair of arms came around his shoulders and the bushy hair tickled his left cheek, he knew exactly who it was. “Molly tell you to fetch me?” he asked, temporarily clutching at the hands of his best friend.

Hermione giggled. “Not in so many words,” she replied, standing on her toes and kissing Harry on the cheek.

Harry nodded, squeezing her hands one last time before Hermione let him go, and stood beside him, watching the lake. “How was dinner last night with your mum and dad?”

“They had a list of phrases and objects for research purposes for Arthur,” Hermione said, and Harry could tell that she was grinning. “They’re really looking forward to meeting them this summer at your birthday, Harry.”

Harry nodded. “It’s a shame that they haven’t been able to up until now.”

“Well, since they own and operate their own dental clinic, it’s the first summer that they haven’t gone to the Dentistry Symposium in the States,” she replied. “Why do you think I spent so many summers here with you and Ron?”

Harry smirked. “And here I thought you actually liked spending time with us.”

Hermione playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “You men,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But in all seriousness, Harry, you’ve been withdrawn...”

Harry lowered his eyes to the brown dirt and dead grass they stood upon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

Hermione laced her fingers more tightly in his. “Something happened last night with Severus, didn’t it?” she whispered.

Harry sighed. “There’s a Fidelius...”

Hermione blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a Fidelius Charm on whatever we end up doing,” he explained, his throat catching then, as his mind and body fought with the spell work in an attempt to stop him from giving away too much information. “He likes to keep his private life private. I promised him that I’d never reveal what happened between the two of us.”

“Merlin, Harry!” Hermione breathed, dropping his hand and clutching at her face. “Please tell me he isn’t hurting you!”

Harry turned and looked over at Hermione. “Hermione, everything he does, I’ve asked for it, really,” he replied, although his eyes told a different story.

Hermione pulled her hands back and dragged them through her hair, shaking her head as her dark eyes sparked with anger. “I don’t care how bloody famous or all the good he’s done for the Wizarding World!” she snapped, and Harry could practically see her magic crackling around her in her anger. “That man had better not be hurting you—!”

“I’m not broken beyond repair, ‘Mione, nor am I a fucking china doll,” Harry said, annoyance peppering his tone, which directly caused her to back down. “Something happened last night, something I am not at liberty to discuss—per the agreement—that caught me off-guard is all. He had to get back to a potion, and so we didn’t have time to resolve it.”

Hermione sighed, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I don’t like it,” she said, wrapping her arms around her, and biting her bottom lip, hard. The lavender blouse she was wearing—bought for her as a gift for Easter from her parents—crumpled slightly as her arms tightened around her willowy frame; her pink knee-length skirt fluttered in the breeze, and her white sandals cracked ever so slightly upon the ground below. Pulling her lower lip further into her mouth, she allowed one arm to drop from around her, and twisted the golden necklace she wore, the star-shaped _H_ rune dangling from the chain. “I just worry about you...”

“I know, Hermione.”

“It’s just that you’ve never been in a relationship before,” Hermione said quickly. “I mean, you had that snog with Cho in fifth-year, but that was after Cedric had graduated and she was torn up because he’d broken her heart... All she wanted was a romantic interlude and a shoulder to cry on really, and the pair of you fell apart pretty fast after that...”

“I know about my romantic history, or lack thereof, ‘Mione,” Harry said, dragging his hand through his messy raven hair.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Not to mention Ginny fawning all over you...”

“Which thankfully ended once she started seeing Dean,” Harry said quickly, remembering how relieved he’d been when their fellow year-mate had begun to pay court to the only daughter of the Weasley family. “Could’ve done without Ron’s constant mutterings about him, but it all seemed to work out, didn’t it?”

“You know very well that Ginny’s not over you, Harry,” Hermione said, her voice dropping down to a whisper, and Harry sighed. “No, I’m serious. I feel really bad for her, thinking that she can just string Dean along like that—he’s a nice bloke, too...”

“Colin said that he wished that Dean would wake up and see what’s right in front of him,” Harry said ruefully.

Hermione smiled sadly then. “You mean Seamus?”

Harry blinked. “Was I the only one who saw it last?”

Hermione grinned. “Ron caught on eventually, but it was actually Neville who saw it first; at least, he was the first to talk about it. Luna mentioned it a time or two, and her eyes always drift between them whenever we’re together. I think she thinks it’s awfully sad that neither of them will own up to their feelings...”

“You think it’s because Dean was raised by Muggles?” Harry wanted to know. “You think there’s prejudice there?”

Hermione sighed. “I can’t fully know, of course, given that there was never any prejudice when I was growing up in similar circumstances,” she told him. “But I think it mainly has to do with Ginny, to be honest with you.”

“His loyalty to her, you mean?”

“It’s not just that, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “You know as well as I do how long Ginny wanted to be with you. Michael Corner was a band-aid when you and Cho were together, but Dean seemed to be her first serious relationship.”

“So, it’s their history, then?”

“Partially,” Hermione allowed. “I think it also has to do with the fact that Ginny wanted you for such a long time, and she ended up with Dean.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Dean felt a sense of accomplishment since Ginny chose him, for lack of a better term,” she said softly. “Whether you want to admit to it or not, you were the most sought-after boy in our year, Harry, likely due to the fact that Riddle was given the veil after your parents’ murders,” she explained. “You’re seen as a hero, a savior if you will, and so many people felt grateful towards you because of that.”

“They saw me as a status symbol,” Harry said bitterly.

Hermione smiled and reached over, pushing back Harry’s fringe slightly, and got a good look at the curse scar that Riddle had given him, on the night of the deaths of James and Lily Potter. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” she said. “However, you’ve got to understand that Dean saw it as an accomplishment, getting Ginny to say ‘yes’ to going out with him.”

“You make it sound like she’s a prize.”

Hermione smirked. “Well, I suppose, in her own way, she is one,” she allowed. “However, most people don’t see the difference between a prize and a piece of property, unfortunately. I think that Dean is one of the rare individuals who does.”

Harry felt himself drawing inward then, for he found that he was truly unknowing as to what Severus saw him as. A piece of property? A fucktoy? A boytoy? Someone who clearly was the submissive in the relationship, to the point where he didn’t even bother to heal him properly, nor fully realize that he was not all right when he last left him...

“Harry?” Hermione asked, peering closer. “Are you all right?”

Harry shook his head at her, inwardly cursing himself as his eyes filled with tears again for the second time that week; he hadn’t cried this much since he was fifteen. “No,” he whispered, and let out a sob as Hermione wrapped her arms around him.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, Harry. Please,” she whispered.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Harry sobbed into her shoulder, and stood with Hermione by the lake at the Burrow, allowing her to comfort him, until Ron eventually found them, letting them know that supper was ready.

~*~

Two days after Hermione’s graduation and dinner at the Burrow, Harry Apparated from his flat and into the main thoroughfare of Godric’s Hollow. He walked along the street, with green dotting every trees’ surface, and saw the sun shining down onto the cobblestones. He stopped at the small wizarding bookshop, Storybook Significance, which was filled to the brim with both magical and Muggle stories for young children until adult age. Stepping inside, Harry was momentarily blindsided by the warmth of the atmosphere, and smiled and nodded to the elderly man behind the counter. Slipping through the rows and into the children’s section, Harry was hit with a warmth of nostalgia for a childhood he had never had, and purchased _The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter_ for Baby Hope, as well as a new edition copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ for Teddy.

Slipping from the store, Harry next trooped across the road to the local baker’s, Chamomile’s Cakery and Café, popping inside to pick up the cake he had ordered for pudding that evening, as well as a special blend of tea for Tonks, and the strongly-brewed coffee for Remus. Once all of his packages, save for the cake, had been paid for and shrunk, Harry continued down the lane of the small wizarding village and outside of town, where rows of the more well-to-do homes were lined, with generous pieces of land in between them. It was at the end of the cul-de-sac that the cottage, once belonging to James and Lily Potter, stood, in all of its restored glory. Harry, as he stepped closer, watched as the front door opened, and Teddy darted out, his hair a brilliant violet that day, and let out a squeal as Harry walked closer.

“Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry!” cried the child, bouncing up and down from within the doorway, and it wasn’t too long after that Remus came up behind his son, likely to fully see what all the fuss was about.

“Oh, Harry, you’re here,” Remus said warmly as Harry finally stepped onto the property, the wards welcoming him immediately, and drew his godson into his arms. “Come in, come in. I know it’s nice out now, but the Wizarding Wireless is calling for rain later this afternoon, due to linger until late at night.”

Harry smiled and nodded, allowing Remus to take the parcel that held the cake and stepped inside, permitting Teddy to take his hand and lead him into the sitting room, as the door swung shut automatically behind them. Looking up from the beautiful Persian carpet, Harry smiled as he saw Tonks, perched on the settee, holding onto Baby Hope, who was awake and alert and was staring at Harry with her impossibly large dark blue eyes.

“Hey, Tonks,” Harry said, and Tonks patted the space next to her, which Harry promptly moved to fill, and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind, I stopped at the bookshop and picked up something for Teddy and Hope.”

“Not at all, Harry,” Tonks said, beaming that Harry had considered them. “Books are always welcome here. You do spoil them, but at least it’s considerate spoiling,” she said, watching as Harry enlarged the book parcels, and handed over one to Teddy. “Teddy, what do we say to Uncle Harry?” she asked, staring down at her son, as Remus stepped back into the sitting room from the kitchen, and sat comfortably in the armchair by the fireplace.

“Thank you, Uncle Harry!” Teddy said, beaming up at him, before he immediately set to work in tearing open the package.

“Another book, then?” Remus asked, smiling over at Harry as Teddy managed to get the packaging off, and gazed down at the cover.

“The new one, the new one!” Teddy crowed, bouncing up and down from where he was kneeling on his haunches, in between the settee and the armchair. “Daddy, look!” he said, getting to his feet and clamoring into Remus’s lap, showing him the new book.

“That was very generous of Uncle Harry, wasn’t it?” Remus asked.

“Thank you, Uncle Harry!” Teddy said for a second time.

“You’re welcome, Teddy,” Harry told him, and presented the other parcel to Tonks. “Would you like me to open this for Hope?”

“Please,” Tonks said, watching Harry avidly, and Harry noticed that Remus and Teddy were even leaning forward slightly.

Harry smiled and made quick work of the parcel, soon revealing the cover with the intricate pencil drawings of Peter Rabbit, Mrs. Rabbit, Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail, Mrs. Tiggywinkle, Squirrel Nutkin, Tabitha Twitchit and Tom Kitten, and numerous amounts of mice, which Harry assumed were from _The Tale of the Tailor of Gloucester_. Looking up, he saw that both Tonks and Remus were smiling in a nostalgic manner, and Harry knew then that he had made the right decision about what to get for Hope.

“What’s that book, Mummy?” Teddy asked, breaking the silence.

“A very special book, Teddy,” Tonks told him.

“When your mummy and I were very small children,” Remus said, pulling Teddy closer to him on his lap, “we learned that my mother and her father were Muggles. Because of this, we had the best of both worlds when it came to books. Tonks and I have often spoken fondly of what we had read to us as children,” he said, looking up at Harry, “and your uncle Harry seems to think that passing on the tradition of such stories is a good idea.”

“Which was your favorite?” Harry asked.

“Jeremy Fisher,” Remus said with a smile.

“I always liked Jemima Puddle-Duck,” Tonks told him wistfully. “She was a bit scatterbrained, just as I am.”

“What about your favorite, Harry?” Remus queried.

“ _The Tailor of Gloucester_ ,” Harry told him, opening the book and finding the page, and ran his fingers along the illustrations. “It was one of the only belongings I had that Vernon and Petunia didn’t destroy,” he said softly, remembering the small book he had as his own copy, as he had had the individual stories, and kept it with him at all times.

“Will you read it to us, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked quietly.

“Of course I will, Teddy,” Harry said, looking up at his godson with a smile, before bending his head down towards the book again. “‘In the time of swords and periwigs and full-skirted coats with flowered lappets—when gentlemen wore ruffles, and gold-laced waistcoats of paduasoy and taffeta—there lived a tailor in Gloucester’,” Harry said softly, and felt all eyes of the Lupin family upon him, save for Hope, for she had fallen asleep.

Harry finished the story in good time, with Tonks venturing upstairs with both the children to put them down for naps, encouraging Harry and Remus to go out for their tea and look around the town for a bit. Harry, upon Remus’s assent, banished his belongings to the guest bedroom upstairs and followed Remus out of the cottage, making their way down the street and into the tearoom called Amaranth’s Assam.

It was a cozy establishment, with carpets adorning the dark wood floors, and a stone mantle fireplace on one half of the room, with an impressive portrait above it, wherein Amaranth Caprine, the former owner of the establishment, peered down at her various customers. Harry took the seat beside the window at Remus’s urging, and they ordered a plate of shortbread and a pot of black tea. Once the tea and biscuits arrived, Harry took a biscuit off the china plate and watched as Remus poured the tea for the both of them.

“You were very sad the other night when we last spoke,” Remus observed, setting down the antique teapot once he’d finished pouring, and helped himself to a biscuit, although this one was of the chocolate-dipped variety. “Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Harry bit his lip; he should have known that coming to Godric’s Hollow would likely result in another interrogation session. He leaned back in the Victorian chair and crossed his legs, and appeared suddenly disinterested with the steaming cup of tea and the biscuit placed before him, and all the while stared at the perfectly-polished wood of the table. “It’s not something I’m allowed to discuss, Remus.”

Remus, who had been sipping at his own cup of tea, promptly lowered it and stared at Harry, a look of unease in his expression. “Harry...”

“What?” Harry asked, knowing what was coming.

“Turn around,” he said only, and, when Harry did so, saw that, in another room of the establishment, Severus himself was sitting, a steaming cup of tea in front of him, and a plate of Ginger Newts just beside it.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry said, sinking down lower in his chair, until he could hear the distinct clip of Severus’s shoes from beside him, and looked up. “Hello, Severus,” he managed to get out, his face flushing a deep red.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” Severus said warmly, before turning to look at Remus. “Hello, Remus, you’re looking well.”

Remus gave him a nod. “Thank you,” he replied.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, hating that his voice was trembling.

“I came to see you, Harry,” Severus responded.

Remus got to his feet. “I’ll just Floo Tonks, see how she’s getting on with the children,” he went on, leaving the table.

Harry gritted his teeth at Remus’s departure, and watched from the corner of his eye as Severus methodically snapped his fingers, bringing over the black Victorian chair he had been sitting in before. “How did you know I was here?” Harry asked, waiting for the man to sit and erect a Silencing Charm around them.

“I popped by your flat to see you, and met Mr. Weasley there,” Severus told him. “Mr. Weasley informed me of your trip to Godric’s Hollow. Of course, I myself would have guessed it, as you left your Apparition Coordinates behind,” he said softly.

Harry forced himself to pick up his cup of tea in an effort to distract himself. “I see,” he said, and attempted to get an unimpressed air about him.

Severus noticed Harry’s hands were shaking, and so he reached out and took the cup from him, and returned it onto his saucer. “I knew you were feeling off the other night.”

Harry turned to look at Severus and glared at him. “We mentioned exclusivity and rough sex, Severus,” he said, growling through his teeth, “but we never mentioned punishments of any kind, not that I recall, anyway.”

Severus inclined his head, waiting for Harry to continue.

“I was beaten enough by my relatives growing up, until I was permitted to go into the custody of Ron’s family,” Harry continued, and was relieved that Severus appeared guilty. “Do you honestly think that I would ever want to be in any kind of relationship, with anyone, where they seemed to get off on hitting me?!”

Severus sighed. “I apologize. You’re right. I shouldn’t have spanked you. We should have discussed the situation like adults...”

“But instead you treated me like a child,” Harry said, his eyes filling with tears as he deliberately turned away from Severus.

“Is something else bothering you?”

“Shouldn’t your behavior the other night be enough?” Harry asked, his tone bitter, and he hated himself for allowing it to crack at the end.

Severus laced his hands into Harry’s, and Harry immediately felt his cheeks bloom with a flush and his heart hammer more rapidly from within his chest. “Harry, please tell me what’s bothering you. We cannot move on from here if you don’t.”

Harry swallowed, lowering his eyes and staring at their hands. “And... And you’re sure you actually want to move on from here?” he asked.

Severus squeezed his hand. “Of course I am, Harry,” he said, and gently tugged at his hand, to the point where Harry was looking over at him. “Please, Harry. Talk to me.”

Harry dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, knowing that it would have come out eventually. “I spoke to Penelope before I had to leave for Hermione’s graduation ceremony,” he said quietly, and hated that he felt guilty.

Severus nodded. “Miss Clearwater has access to my schedule, of course, given her position at the bureau. I take it you were looking for me and were in touch with her instead?”

Harry sighed. “I was looking for you, but...”

“But what, Harry?”

“But she told me that you were having dinner with Professor Slughorn,” Harry said, his voice catching slightly then as Severus’s eyes flashed.

“He is my mentor and confident in the field of potions, Harry. I’ve known him since I was eleven-years-old, and he taught me everything he knew...”

“But that’s not it, isn’t it?” Harry asked, his voice trembling. “There was something else between the two of you, wasn’t there?”

Severus sighed. “I will readily admit that Horace is the person who took my virginity,” he said quietly, and Harry tore his hands away from his.

“Merlin, Severus! Do you realize how wrong that sounds?!” he demanded. “You said that you were sixteen—were you even in your sixth-year yet?”

Severus’s jaw set then. “No. It was just after the Christmas holidays of my fifth-year.”

Harry shook his head. “That man is a predator.”

“Harry...”

“No, nothing you say can justify this,” Harry told him, blinking back the tears which threatened to overtake his vision. “Tell me—did you actually _want_ him?”

“At the time, of course I did,” Severus said quietly, seeming to understand Harry’s outburst, and wasn’t going to stop him from feeling the way he did. “Horace taught me what I really wanted in the bedroom, and although I was the submissive party during our relationship, I soon realized that I was not a natural bottom, so to speak, and I knew I was a top.”

Harry shivered from within his chair. “Severus, you can’t honestly think that you were the only student he did this to?”

Severus sighed. “I had my suspicions, but I don’t have any evidence to the contrary,” he replied, spreading his hands.

“Oh, please,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “You know as well as I do, from what I told you, how terrified Neville was of him. Now, it all makes sense,” he said bitterly. “One of my closest friends was also a target for his abuse.”

“Harry, what you’ve got to understand here is that Horace and I, what we had when I was a teenager, ended a long time ago. Now, we’re merely colleagues in the same field, who go to each other for advice and whatnot...”

Harry threw up his hands. “How can you just sit there and even try to defend him, let alone the apparent professional relationship the two of you supposedly share?” he whispered. “He’s a child molester, Severus, plain and simple. And the notion that you two were actually at dinner together, and socializing...”

“Harry, were you jealous?”

Harry sighed. “He’s a potions expert, Severus,” he told him. “And while I was proficient at the subject whilst at Hogwarts and at Flarmerth, I’ll never be on the same level as either of you. Not to mention the fact that Professor Slughorn raped you...”

“It wasn’t rape, Harry.”

“You weren’t yet over the age of consent...”

“Harry...”

“The age of consent in the United Kingdom was established in the late-nineteenth century,” said Harry in an annoyed tone of voice. “Don’t even try to tell me that no laws were broken when the pair of you were...were...”

Severus sighed. “The laws of the Wizarding World are different,” he said, and reached out to take his hand again. “What do I have to do to persuade you?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t ask you never to see him again, I suppose,” he said, and hated how childish he sounded. “Well, first of all, can we not discuss him again?”

Severus nodded. “Of course we don’t have to.”

“Good,” he replied. “Second...” He looked up at the man, and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say this, Severus, but I want more.”

“More?”

“More,” Harry said. “I know that it’s not what you want to hear, but I don’t know how else to tell you this. You say that I’m yours, but I don’t feel as if you’re mine. I don’t want to be your dirty little secret, because that’s what I feel like.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to go places, do things with you,” Harry told him. “I know that’s encroaching onto typical couple territory, and that you don’t really do things like that, but how am I supposed to be happy in this relationship if you’re only getting what you want?”

Slowly, Severus reached upwards and cupped Harry’s face in his hand, tracing his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Leaning in, Severus brushed his lips gently to Harry’s, and was pleasantly surprised when the younger man wrapped his arms around Severus’s neck and pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss. “You’re right, Harry,” Severus whispered as they slowly broke apart, and he soon became lost in those captivating green eyes. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again. “Did you know that this is also an inn?”

Harry blinked, and shook his head. “No.”

Severus smiled at his apparent innocence. “I’ve a room here, upstairs.”

Harry scoffed. “Well, I hope you’ll be very comfortable in it.”

“You’re welcome to share it with me, you know.”

Harry sighed. “All right. But someone has to get my things from the cottage...”

“It will be taken care of,” Severus told him, holding him close. “What are you doing for breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

Harry blinked. “Breakfast?” he asked. “Why would I have plans for breakfast? I’m not some diplomat...”

Severus chuckled. “So, no breakfast plans, then?”

Harry shook his head. “None whatsoever.”

“Meet me in the fields behind the town square tomorrow,” he said, and kissed Harry’s nose. “I think that we can make love, and see you back to the cottage in time to spend the night there, and then you can meet me for breakfast tomorrow. All right?”

Harry found himself willingly getting to his feet. “All right,” he replied, and was pulled from the room and up the lavish staircase, before he was pulled into a luxurious-looking suite of rooms and looked around, his mouth going dry at the richness. He shuddered automatically as Severus wrapped his arms around him from behind, and instantly leaned into the embrace.

“Do you know what you do to me, Harry?” Severus whispered against his neck, and gently pressed his lips to the soft skin there, before he bit at it.

Harry let out a moan in Severus’s arms, never knowing how sensitive his neck was up until things with Severus had begun. “Severus...”

Severus soothed the ache with his talented tongue, and Harry continued to melt in his arms at the older man’s ministrations. “Such a beautiful boy,” he whispered.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Harry moaned, arching himself with the proficiency of a dancer up against his lover’s firm body, never wanting to leave his arms.

Severus painstakingly began unbuttoning the buttons of Harry’s shirt, one by one, and marveled at the paleness of his lover’s skin. “Beautiful,” he said, running his fingers up and down the defined muscles, and chuckled instinctively when Harry mewled in his arms. “Such a beautiful body you have, my Harry... It means the world to me that I’m the first one to see it...touch it...experience it,” he whispered, wetting his thumb and index finger, before he proceeded to lavish attention onto one of Harry’s erect nipples.

Harry croaked out a sob of a moan, his eyes snapping shut on a wave of pleasure. He could feel his cock engorging upon the placket of his trousers, and he had never been more aroused than he had been in that moment.

Severus waved his hand then, causing Harry’s eyes to snap open, and Harry watched as a floor-length mirror appeared before them. Severus smirked at Harry’s surprise, and gently eased off the younger man’s shirt. “You open yourself up to me so readily, my Harry... Almost as if you were made for me,” he said, almost as if he was wondering aloud, and gently eased down the zipper of Harry’s trousers. “Already so big for me, my Harry?” Severus queried, and Harry swallowed, not trusting his voice to speak at a time like this. Severus dipped his hand into Harry’s trousers, while the free one worked them down around his ankles, and rubbed the head of Harry’s cock through his boxers.

“ _Severus_...” Harry whispered.

“Yes, my Harry,” Severus replied, and suddenly tore down Harry’s boxers with a startling amount of efficiency. He took ahold of the engorged member of his younger lover, and rubbed the head and the slit with his thumb, Harry practically melting in his arms again. “So, my Harry, do you like this?” he asked.

Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around Severus’s neck. “Yes,” he whispered.

Severus made a tunnel with his hand and gently moved it back and forth along Harry’s sensitive cock, and Harry moaned happily against him. “Do you want me to make you come, Harry?” the man asked softly.

Harry nodded. “Yes, please,” he whispered again.

“Say the words, my Harry.”

Harry slowly managed to open his eyes, and stared at Severus’s onyx ones in the mirror opposite him. “I want you to make me come, Severus.”

“How would you like me to make you come, my Harry?” Severus asked.

Harry swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he fought with his brain and his mouth to say the words, to convey to his lover what he so desperately wanted. “Severus, I want you to stroke my cock until I come...please, please,” he said, the final two words coming out as whimpers, for he almost couldn’t stand it anymore.

Severus smiled against Harry’s neck, his tongue coming out to play as he tantalizingly licked at the shell of his ear. “Very well, Harry,” he replied, and suddenly began stroking faster, so quickly that Harry barely was able to keep up with the man. “Do you like that?” Severus whispered to him, his voice husky. “Do you like that, Harry?”

“Yes, _yes_!” Harry moaned.

“Watch yourself, Harry,” Severus told him, his voice like a balm in his ear. “Watch how beautiful you look when you come...”

Harry arched himself against his lover, forcing his eyes not to roll backwards and up into his head, as he fought the inner battle to please Severus. “Oh... Oh, Merlin...”

“That’s it, Harry,” Severus whispered to him. “Allow yourself to feel all the sensations... Allow it to ripple through you, and then allow the tidal wave to take over, ripping through you as you take that step over the edge. Come, Harry. Come for me.”

“ _Severus_!” Harry suddenly shouted, never taking his eyes off of himself in the mirror, but did manage to catch a glimpse of Severus in the glass frame. He was shocked that the man appeared in awe of him, and Harry couldn’t fully comprehend why that should be. He slackened automatically in Severus’s arms in the wake of his incredible orgasm, and Severus lifted him, taking him towards the bathroom. Sitting Harry up onto the counter, he took out a flannel and ran warm water upon it.

“Are you all right?” he asked, gently pulling off his shoes, socks, trousers, and boxers, so as to clean him more expertly.

Harry nodded, his entire body still thrumming from his orgasm. “Yes,” he replied. He looked up at Severus slowly then, and gave him a smile. “However, I think that my arse needs to be filled by _that_ ,” he said, reaching out slowly and gently taking ahold of Severus’s cock, an impressive bulge from within the man’s trousers. “If you’d be so kind...”

Severus grinned at him, and, once he had finished cleaning him off, lifted him off the bathroom counter and carried him back into the bedroom, threw him down onto the bed, and didn’t permit Harry to leave it until his arse was wonderfully sore.

~*~

Harry returned to the cottage under cover of darkness, feeling badly that he had missed out on dinner with Remus, Tonks, Teddy, and Baby Hope. His arse was still deliciously sore from Severus repeatedly pounding him into the mattress at the inn, and he knew very well that he had many love bites all over his body. Severus had reiterated where to meet him the following morning, and Harry was pleased that the entirety of the situation seemed to be like the beginning of a date.

The wards around the cottage recognized him as he slipped though them, and the door opened automatically for him to slip inside. There was the telltale scent of bangers and mash lingering in the air, leading Harry to correctly assume what the Lupin family had had for dinner. He paused within the entryway, hearing Remus and Tonks in the kitchen. It was nearly nine o’clock, and Harry knew that both Teddy and Baby Hope would likely be in bed by now.

“He just _showed up_ there, Tonks!” Remus was saying, and Harry slowly shut the door behind him as he silently crept into the sitting room. “Showed up—I don’t even think Harry knew that Severus knew he was coming here!”

“Remus, it’s a public place,” Tonks said, easily slipping into the conversation and managing to at least attempt to calm her husband down. “You can hardly fault him for being there. Besides, I find the entire arrangement to be impossibly romantic. Perhaps Severus has changed in the years since your adolescence. He certainly has made a name for himself in his field of choice, and you know as well as I do who provides your Wolfsbane Potion every month. Maybe, just maybe if you were to give him a chance...”

“I went to school with him, Tonks,” Remus said, cutting his wife off. “What you’ve got to understand here is how different he was then, how withdrawn, always cozying up to those Dark Arts books of his...”

“And what you clearly need to understand here is the notion that my cousin and your best friend had a vendetta against him,” Tonks said firmly.

“Tonks, Sirius didn’t...”

“Oh, believe me, he did,” Tonks said firmly. “Sirius may have been a more liberal Pureblood than the rest of the Blacks, but he clearly picked up on some of their hatred ideologies. And who wouldn’t, given that Regulus was clearly so favored when they were growing up? Even Regulus going missing and turning up dead didn’t help his cause—Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga never looked at him as anything more than a failure.”

Remus sighed. “You know as well as I do that we were all children...”

“Children is what you acted like, not what you all were,” Tonks interrupted. “You were a prefect for Merlin’s sake—how James ever became Head Boy with what you all did to him is a clear note of favoritism that Albus completely disregarded his past transgressions,” she said, her tone filled with disappointment. “You literally turned your back on what your friends were doing, which was bullying, Remus, plain and simple.”

“I didn’t...”

“Yes, I know full well that you weren’t an active participant,” Tonks went on, her tone clipped as she continued to dress down her husband. “You have a clear recollection of what is and isn’t acceptable behavior by the time you start at Hogwarts, and yet James, Sirius, and Pettigrew would constantly egg each other on in their pursuit to make it seem as if Severus wasn’t welcome in the school.”

“Tonks...”

“No, I’m still speaking,” Tonks said quickly. “You stood by and permitted the treatment. I know very well that the incident when you were sixteen wasn’t your fault, Remus, but you’ve got to understand that the fact that all of you got away with slaps on the wrist was just deplorable. What about when Teddy and Hope go to Hogwarts? Don’t you want them not to be bullied and, if they turn out to be bullies themselves, shouldn’t they be held accountable for their actions?”

Remus sighed. “Yes.”

“Good,” Tonks said, and turned around then, drawing inwards on herself as she saw Harry standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Harry...”

“Harry,” Remus said, straightening up.

“I knew that all of you didn’t get along, but I never thought it was as bad as that,” Harry said quietly, and sighed, waiting for Tonks to exit the room, looking drawn. “What happened when you were sixteen?”

“Harry...”

“No, Remus, tell me,” Harry said firmly, locking eyes with his godfather. “If something happened between you and Severus, I want to know what it was.”

Remus sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You know that Albus set up the Shrieking Shack for me, to handle my transformations in a safe environment while I was at Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded. “Of course. Dad, Sirius, and Pettigrew all became unregistered Animagi so that they could keep you company.”

Remus nodded. “That’s right. Anyhow, one day, when I was in the middle of the transformation, Sirius thought it would be wildly funny to dare Severus to go to the shack...”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“I had no idea it was going to happen,” Remus said quickly, “as you know as well as I do that I wasn’t in my right mind, am not in my right mind, during the change...”

“Keep going,” Harry said.

“Per Sirius’s dare, Severus came into the Shrieking Shack, via the tunnel connected to the Whomping Willow,” Remus continued. “I attacked him, and nearly killed him,” he went on, his shoulders hunching, as he lowered his eyes. “At the last moment, Prongs, James’ Animagus form, came to the rescue, managing to drag Severus out of there before any permanent damage was done to him. James then took Severus to see Madam Pomfrey, and nothing more was said about the situation, other than for Severus to mind his own business...”

“So, you’re saying that Sirius never got into trouble?”

Remus gave a stiff nod. “That’s correct.”

Harry felt something akin to bile rising in his throat; he hardly wanted to throw up the expensive dinner Severus had fed to him in his hotel room, but the sensation of potentially throwing up grilled chicken and bulgur salad with peaches was not something he ever wanted to accomplish in his lifetime. “Are you serious?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Remus said quietly.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “And you’re all right with that?”

“Harry, I hardly had a say in the discipline...”

“Don’t make me laugh—you were a bloody prefect!” Harry shouted. “You could have easily recommended that Sirius be punished accordingly...” Harry watched then as Remus’s expression seemed to close. “Oh, so sorry,” Harry said, scoffing as he began to back out of the kitchen, “my mistake. It seems as though loyalty only flows so deep...”

“Harry...”

“...and that you, clearly, only looked out for your own. Your own being Gryffindors, and not the entire student body,” Harry said, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from crying, and moved quickly up the staircase, wanting to at least attempt to get some sleep before whatever it was that Severus had planned for them the next day.

~*~

Harry left the cottage fifteen minutes before eight the next morning; he assumed that the entire family was still asleep, as the house seemed silent. Making his way along the main road, he arrived at the town square quickly, and saw that Severus was just exiting the hotel. Looking up, the man smiled at him and promptly closed the distance between them, greeting Harry with a kiss and taking him by the hand. They walked in tandem towards the field behind the main square, and Harry spotted a man with a short, snow-white beard awaiting them, and remained silent, as Severus approached and held out his hand.

“Master Snape, good morning,” the man said.

“Good morning,” Severus replied.

“I’m Gideon Pokeby,” he said by way of greeting, his voice friendly, “I hope that I’ve brought what you wanted,” he said.

“This is my boyfriend, Harry Potter,” Severus said, “and I’m sure you have.”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat then at Severus’s words, and took the other man’s offered hand. “Good morning, Mr. Pokeby. Pleasure to meet you.”

Gideon Pokeby nodded at Harry, saying it was a pleasure to meet him as well, before he whistled a bit to his left.

Harry and Severus turned as one then, listening to the rustle of the trees dotting the edge of the field, and, when they parted, a deep black hippogriff made itself known. Harry, who had been quite close to Buckbeak over the years, gasped and immediately stepped forward, dropping Severus’s hand and moving so that the winged creature could see him. He bent at the waist, and the beast chortled slightly, before returning the bow. Satisfied, Harry tentatively stepped forward, waiting for the creature to come to him, per Hagrid’s recommendation back in Care of Magical Creatures, and, quite soon, the feathered head came to rest in the palm of his hand.

“Her name’s Corvina,” Gideon explained from behind Harry. “I hope she’ll make a worthy edition to your wildlife preserve, Master Snape.”

“Thank you,” Severus replied, watching Harry interact with the hippogriff. “I’m sure she will,” he said approvingly, shaking the man’s hand again. Once Severus had seen Gideon Pokeby off, he approached Harry from behind, bowing and petting Corvina accordingly. “Gideon told me that her name is Corvina,” he explained.

“She’s lovely,” Harry whispered.

“Prince Estate had a menagerie in the back, which I’ve successfully turned into a wildlife preserve for magical creatures,” Severus explained, and Harry turned to look at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t use them for potions ingredients. But I do have a team of researchers who constantly study their natural habitats, diets, and other habits, so as they’re happy, while always in a safe environment, of course. The only creatures I don’t keep are dragons.”

Harry smiled. “And she’s the latest for the collection?”

“So it seems,” Severus replied, stroking the creatures feathers. “I’ve never owned a hippogriff before, just as I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

Harry swallowed. “So, you meant that, then? You weren’t just saying...”

Severus smiled. “Gideon Pokeby may be a great-grandson of the famous magizoologist Gulliver Pokeby, Harry, but I’m quite sure he wouldn’t take too kindly to lying.”

Harry smiled. “All right, then.”

“Do you want to ride her?” Severus asked.

Harry grinned. “Can I?”

“Of course. Have you ever ridden a hippogriff before?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. In third-year, Hagrid had me demonstrate, and I got to ride Buckbeak, the one in his care. It was wonderful.”

Severus smiled. “At first, I couldn’t understand why Albus gave Hagrid another position on top of his duties as Keeper of Keys and Groundskeeper,” he admitted. “However, the reports on his classes were most excellent, so I knew Albus had made the proper decision, once Silvanus had gone into retirement.”

“I never had him as an instructor,” Harry admitted softly. “Hagrid took over the position in my third-year, the first year I was eligible for the class.”

Severus nodded in understanding, before taking ahold of Harry’s waist and gently lifting him onto Corvina’s back. Carefully, he got up behind Harry and wrapped his arms around his middle again, and used his heels to gently prod the beast to life. Chuckling, he watched as Harry suddenly lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Corvina’s feathered neck, as the beast pawed at the ground momentarily, and took off at a run, her wings swooping outwards, and took off into the air.

Harry breathed in some of the English air, looking downwards at the village of Godric’s Hollow, and it was truly a sight to behold, as it continually shrunk below. He felt secure, holding tightly onto Corvina’s neck, as well as desired, given that Severus had his arms securely around his tapered waist. He felt himself smiling, as he threw back his head and laughed, leaning backwards so that his head rested comfortably upon Severus’s shoulder.

“Is this more?” Severus whispered into his ear.

Harry shivered at the delicious sensation of Severus’s breath upon his neck, as Corvina continued to bring them higher and higher. “So much more,” he replied.

Severus reached forward then, so as he could better control Corvina’s movements, and Harry looked at him over his shoulder. “I raced some hippogriffs in France during my time abroad, in the summers when I was achieving my dual masteries,” he said quietly. “Wonderful creatures. I always wanted one of my own...”

“And now you have one,” Harry responded.

Severus turned his head then, pressing his lips to Harry’s temple and lingering there for a moment, and then pressed his cheek to Harry’s. “I do, but it’s honestly become so much more than that,” he confessed, and Harry snuggled closer to him.

Harry and Severus continued circling the sky for another quarter of an hour, before Harry permitted Severus to gently steer Corvina back towards the ground. He let out a sigh of relief when she landed seamlessly, and remained on her back as Severus reached upwards, helping him down as if he was a lord and Harry was his squire. He was slightly taken back when Severus wrapped his arms around him, and continued nestling into his embrace, until the familiar spark of magic erupted from behind him and, turning, saw what Severus was seeing—an impressive cheetah Patronus.

“What’s going on?” Harry whispered.

“No idea,” Severus replied, crossing over to it, and Harry remained standing beside Corvina, not wanting to invade the man’s privacy. A few moments later the cheetah had sprinted off and Severus had returned to Harry’s side, looking grave. “It’s my mother,” he said softly, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Your mother’s Patronus is a cheetah?”

“No, her Patronus is a Gyrfalcon,” Severus replied offhandedly. “The Patronus I just received was from my personal assistant and second-in-command, Blaise Zabini.”

“Blaise?” Harry asked, slightly surprised.

“Yes. He took over from the position from his father, Bronson, after his graduation from Hogwarts, and managed to achieve his dual degrees in potions and combat, despite the duties he has towards me in the last few years... I know he attended university with you as well. Are you familiar with him?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. Same year and all. He was in Slytherin, of course, but when we did talk, we always got on with one another...”

Severus gave a small smile, obviously pleased with that. “My mother seems ill, and needs her prescription potions. Only issue with that is, I’m the only one who knows how to make them, and she’s run out, unfortunately...”

Harry smiled, and stepped closer to Severus, taking his hand. “I know that I’d give anything to spend one more day with my own mother,” he said softly, reaching up and cupping the man’s face with his free hand. “Go and help her, Severus. Really.”

Severus sighed. “I don’t want to leave you...”

“You’re not leaving me, you’re just going to give your mother the help she needs,” Harry responded softly, closing the distance between them and kissing him softly, the first time he’d initiated a kiss, and felt his heart hammering faster in his chest as Severus wrapped his arms around him. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered against the man’s lips.

Severus continued holding onto Harry. “I’ll speak to my mother about you,” he said quietly, and smirked at Harry’s confused expression. “She doesn’t issue invitations for dinner lightly, Harry, and, I assure you, that she won’t forget about it.”

Harry chuckled. “Whatever makes you comfortable, Severus.”

“ _You_ make me comfortable,” the man replied and, before he could talk himself out of it, gently caressed the seam of Harry’s lips with his tongue, and groaned when Harry’s mouth opened automatically to him, and delighted in the shiver the younger man made as Severus’s tongue mapped out his mouth completely.

“Go and help your mother,” Harry said, gently shoving Severus backwards and away from him, although his eyes were shining.

“Let me know when you’re back in London,” Severus told him.

Harry nodded. “I will.”

Severus gave him a small smile, before he climbed up onto Corvina’s back again, and flew off into the sky, noticing that he could see Harry waving him off for a long time afterward.


	6. The Opposite of Devoid

On his final day in Godric’s Hollow, Harry made his way to the cemetery where he knew his parents had been buried. He’d been back each summer after the Weasleys had gotten custody of him, and Molly or Arthur, or perhaps Bill if he was available, would accompany him, Ron, and Hermione to pay their respects. After he graduated from Hogwarts, he felt secure in going on his own, and Ron and Hermione had immediately respected his decision, telling him that they would be there for him, should he want to talk afterwards.

Stepping into the cemetery, Harry looked around, and was relieved to see that the entirety of the place was empty on that day. The Sunday service at the Godric’s Hollow Cathedral had likely ended, and the after-service coffee, tea and treats had also seemed to have come and gone. Harry quickly noticed that the headstones were done up alphabetically by last name, and was amazed to see that several of the years dated back from the 1880s, if not before. He stopped momentarily in the D’s, catching sight of Percival and Kendra Dumbledore, as well as their only daughter, Ariana, who were all deceased. Percival had met his end in Azkaban, while Kendra had been killed by a spurt of accidental magic by Ariana, while the youngest child of the trio of Dumbledore children had been murdered by Gellert Grindelwald himself.

Harry sighed, feeling badly that his former headmaster’s family had been shattered so. He knew that his younger brother and middle child of the Dumbledore family, Aberforth, innkeeper and barman of The Hog’s Head, was not close to the Headmaster at Hogwarts. However, at the height of the Wizarding War, Aberforth had permitted his elder brother to use his bar to interview potentially unsavory characters, in the hopes of infiltrating Riddle’s potential army, before it had all come crashing down on the final day of October 1981. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all gone into the Hog’s Head upon the occasion of their commencement from Hogwarts, each sipping on a congratulatory Firewhiskey, and had thanked Aberforth for all he had done in service to taking Riddle down.

Pushing himself away from the headstone of the Dumbledore family at last, Harry meandered down through the various surnames, hesitating briefly at his Peverell relatives’ stone, before finally finding where his parents had been buried. He knelt within the patch of dying grass before the stone, casting an _Aguamenti_ to re-hydrate it, and was relieved when it came alive beneath his knees once again. Conjuring a beautiful bunch of forget-me-nots, Harry levitated them to rest upon the bottom portion of the grave. He smiled, taking in the names of James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, wondering if they would have approved of how he was spending his time, and who he was currently spending it with, post-graduation.

“Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Harry said softly, sitting back upon his haunches. “I did as you both wanted—I graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature, with both Muggle and Wizarding World qualifications,” he said, unable to keep the pride of his achievements out of his voice as he told them. “I have an appointment with the goblins at Gringotts to look into the vault, and finally claim my inheritance,” he said, a small laugh escaping his lips. “I jumped through plenty of hoops to get to it, you know, so I should be able to get it...”

He broke off suddenly, and allowed his laughter to dissipate, as he stared down at his hands, which he was currently clenching before him. Remus had warned him about what any conversation would have been like, had his parents been alive, about what he was up to in seeing Severus Snape. Meeting him in passing, had there not been a connection, when Harry had been doing the favor for Ron, would have been one thing. This, however, was another thing entirely, because Harry not only had a connection with the man, but he had slept with him, lost his virginity to him, in fact, and, given his father’s deep hatred for his former schoolmate, neither James or Sirius would have been happy for him.

“Mum, Dad... There’s another bit of news I have to share with you,” he said softly, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hear their responses, even if they were able to do so, but still wanted to be the one to say it. “I’ve been seeing someone... Ron actually inadvertently introduced us. He was sick when he had to give a final interview for the school paper, and I went in his place... You actually know the person I had to interview. His name is Severus...Severus Snape,” he said softly, and found himself smiling at the memory of them flying upon the hippogriff together, as well as the fact that he’d been introduced as his boyfriend.

He’d been told by Sirius, and later by Remus, that his parents had always wanted to see him happy, either professionally or personally, in his life. Harry bit down hard upon his lower lip, and wondered if that extended to his potentially finding happiness with his parents’ school day enemies. Misunderstood is what Severus had been, and it broke his heart that the Marauders had refused to allow themselves to uphold their houses’ message to be chivalrous. Sure, his father hadn’t had an issue with his mother’s Blood Status, but the moment another student seemed to be interested in something that differed with his own world view, they were marked for bullying and childish tendencies...

“He’s a world-famous potions master now, and he’s working on a new adaptation for the Wolfsbane Potion, which should be complete by Remus’s next birthday,” he went on, his tone enthusiastic. “We’re so different, but I like him, a lot, and I hope I can be with him the way he needs me to,” he said, ending that sentence softly, for he was still unsure about it. “Anyhow,” he pressed on, “I love you both. I’ve got to be getting back to London. Ron’s going to ask Hermione to move in with him, so when I have my appointment at Gringotts, I’m going to look into the other Potter properties. I’ve given up my hold on Grimmauld Place; I think the Malfoy’s are trying to get it now... I’ll have to figure out where I’m going to live when all of this is over,” he whispered. “Well,” he went on, getting to his feet and brushing off his trousers, “I’ll be seeing you.” He placed his hand briefly upon the headstone, and smiled down at it. “I love you, both of you. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to be happy for me,” he said quietly, before he turned on the spot an Apparated back to his flat in London.

~*~

Harry knelt in front of the Floo Network in his shared flat with Ron, waiting for the connection to be established. Ron and Hermione were each off somewhere—Ron assisting the twins at the shop in Diagon Alley on a rare afternoon off, and Hermione was visiting her parents. Nibbling at his lower lip, Harry watched as the flames swirled around, until he was finally connected to Severus’s office at the bureau.

“Harry?” Severus asked, his face appearing in the flames, looking perplexed. “Are you doing all right? I haven’t heard from you since our last outing...”

Harry gave him a small smile. “I’m all right, thank you,” he replied. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you would have time to meet with me today.”

Severus snapped his fingers and tilted his head, and Harry smirked at the notion that the man was obviously looking over his schedule. “I have time this evening, around eight. Would that suffice, Harry?” he asked, looking up.

Harry nodded. “It does. Thank you.”

“Did you want to go to dinner?”

Harry shook his head. “No, no thank you,” he said softly. “I would like to request a business meeting from you, if that’s all right.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow. “A business meeting?”

“Precisely,” Harry responded. “I would like to discuss the dynamics of our relationship, my limits, and whatnot.”

Severus looked appraisingly at Harry. “I think that is an excellent idea,” he responded. “I’m not fond in taking someone against their will, nor do I enjoy walking into something blind. I would think that being on the same page, especially about important matters such as these, is a most excellent idea, Harry.”

Harry smiled politely, but secretly he was dancing inside at the notion that Severus had so readily agreed to this meeting. “Great,” he responded, knowing that he had to be diplomatic about all of this. “I’ll see you at eight, then, Severus.”

“I look forward to it, Harry,” Severus said, a small smile pulling at his lips, before he severed the connection between them.

Harry pushed himself upwards and looked around the flat; in the days since their commencement and Harry’s subsequent trip up to Godric’s Hollow, cleaning had fallen by the wayside. Shaking his head, Harry got to work, summoning the book on Cleaning Spells that Molly had supplied them both with when they’d first moved in, and smirked to himself as Hedwig went onto the highest perch possible, in order to not get caught up with the erratic-looking spells coming forth from his wand. As Harry worked, he recalled all the demeaning chores and duties that the Dursleys had given him when he was a child and young teenager, and shook his head, knowing that he was truly better off without them, and would never have to see either of them again for as long as he lived.

Rolling his shoulders, Harry felt pleased with the progress about two hours later, and then went to the ensuite in his bedroom to shower. Stripping off, Harry tested the water temperature with his hand before stepping inside the stream, grimacing slightly at the water pressure. His meeting with the goblins at Gringotts couldn’t come soon enough; he was more than ready to get out of his flat and get a proper place to live. Harry rolled his shoulders then, envisioning Severus working with highly volatile potions, his dark eyes gleaming with concentration, and imagined all that those talented hands could do to him.

Harry bit his lip, leaning back against the white tiles that decorated his shower. His eyes rolled back up into his head, as his right hand lowered to trail through the hair around his groin, and to cup at his balls. He rolled them experimentally in his fingers, an involuntary groan escaping from his lips before he could call it back. Working his lower lip between his teeth, he caressed the tip of his engorged member, imagining that Severus was the one holding him, caressing him, stimulating him... It only took three quick pulls, and Harry was cursing, swearing, and yelling Severus’s name as he came in his hands.

Straightening himself up and pushing back from the wall, Harry finished washing himself before he got out of the shower. Once he’d dried himself off and threw on a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, he stepped into a pair of sandals and made his way to the Floo again. Calling out for The Leaky Cauldron, where he hadn’t been since the night before Severus had taken his virginity, Harry stepped through. Greeting Tom, Harry trooped over to a table along the back wall, where Ron, Fred, and George were sitting. The twins greeted him with hugs, and Harry clasped Ron’s hand briefly as he slipped into the booth beside him.

“No Angelina or Alicia today?” Harry queried.

“Angelina’s got a new case of dragon pox at St. Mungo’s,” George explained. “She has to quarantine herself, even though she’s already been inoculated. Apparently it’s a new strain of some kind, but rumor has it that that boyfriend of yours is on the case,” he went on, and gave Harry a small smirk.

Harry grimaced slightly then and turned to Fred. “And Alicia?” he asked.

Fred shook his head. “Alicia’s got practice,” he explained. “Summer games are coming up, and, even though they’re not in the Cup, they still want to keep on their toes.”

“Krum’s playing this year, right?” Ron asked, having been obsessed, practically, with the player since they’d all attended the Cup in 1994.

“That’s right,” George confirmed, grinning. “Dumb Krum.”

“He’s an artist!” Ron said, crossing his arms and glaring at his brothers.

“Too bad Ginny’s not here, to declare that you’re in love with him,” Fred said with a smirk, and Harry smiled nervously at the prospect.

“It was before she was really mad for you, mate,” Ron assured him, his feelings on Krum temporarily forgotten. “Besides, she’s with Dean now...”

“But for how long?” George asked. “Hermione told me about what Colin said the last time you were here, Harry,” he said softly. “Fred and I knew the entire time. We just hope that they don’t keep on like this...”

“You’re right there,” Harry responded, thanking one of the barmaids for the glass of pumpkin juice, and sipped at it slowly.

“Right about what exactly?” Ron asked, looking from his brothers, to his best mate, and back again. “What are you three on about?”

“Just that Ginny and Dean aren’t right for each other, Ronniekins,” Fred explained.

“Not right for...? What do you...?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s been stringing him along since the second half of your sixth-year and her fifth,” George put in. “Ever since she tried to kiss Harry in the common room like that, prompting them to temporarily break up, and Harry to come out before he was ready to do so. Luckily, Skeeter didn’t get her grubby little hands on the story...”

“All thanks to one of Dumbledore’s new clauses in the school rules,” Fred said smartly. “I think it had to do with the one too many times Filch had it in for us...”

“But Ginny and Dean can’t just be going through the motions,” Ron protested. “They’ve got to have _some_ feelings for each other...”

“Contempt, at least on Ginny’s end,” Harry said ruefully, sitting back in the booth and swirling his pumpkin juice around in its tankard. “I think Dean’s just gotten so used to being with her, and, by extension, the treatment she deals to him, that he’s either too comfortable or too used to it that he won’t break it off.”

“And I suppose that Ginny still wants you?”

“Most probably,” Harry said with a shrug, not particularly caring. “And then, of course, there’s the matter of Dean...”

“What about Dean?” Ron pressed. “He’s a good bloke...”

“You didn’t say that in sixth-year,” Fred said, smirking.

“Not to mention the term ‘slick git’ being brought up in relation to him more than once,” George quickly put in.

“Well, he was running his hands all over our sister! What else am I supposed to say or do in that situation?!” Ron demanded.

“Ignore it?” Harry asked. “You were snogging Lavender Brown the year before, when Moody finally was able to take over as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for real...”

“He never seemed fully with it,” Ron mused, shaking his head.

“Likely because of the post-traumatic stress after Crouch had made the aborted play for Riddle’s return,” Harry said darkly. “Once you go through the veil at the ministry, there’s no coming back from it...”

“I still think the plot to lure you to the ministry was madness,” George said, shuddering.

“Ginny likely thought the pair of you would come together after that, given that things had failed with Cho,” Fred said quietly.

“I know she was with Hufflepuff’s Seeker, Diggory, for a while there,” Ron said. “I mean, he broke her heart before graduation, and just disappeared...”

“We played against him plenty of times to let you know he was good,” George reported. “But I guess, with all the pressure Mr. Diggory continuously put on him...”

“He wanted to fly under the radar, so to speak,” Fred said, shaking his head. “I think he’s working in France with their ministry now. Dad mentioned it during the Christmas hols after he graduated from Hogwarts,” he went on, and George nodded quickly, showing that he remembered the conversation. “Mr. Diggory wanted him to be an Auror, but I think he went into... What was it, George?”

“The Bureau of Magicommunications,” George said, snapping his fingers as it seemed to suddenly come to him. “Mr. Diggory was so disappointed, but Dad was sure to tell him that it was wonderful that he even got a ministry job at all, due to his status as a Quidditch god,” he said, and rolled his eyes.

Harry smirked, looking up to catch the waiter’s eye, and they all ordered platters of fish and chips for their lunches. “I talked to him a few times about the game,” he said quietly. “Nice enough, I suppose. Perfectly polite, but awfully quiet and shy. I think the popularity at Hogwarts he had, plus the pressure from Mr. Diggory, might’ve weighed more heavily on him than any of us could’ve even begun to realize...”

Ron helped pass around the platters of lunch once they arrived at the table. Tentatively, he put vinegar all over his food, and twirled one of the chips in his fingertips. “You really don’t think that Ginny and Dean will work out?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Ron’s brows furrowed. “Well, we’ve established why it won’t work on Ginny’s side of things,” he said, “but that just leaves Dean. What about him? It can’t just be because he’s too comfortable...”

“Dean’s got feelings for someone else, mate,” Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder.

Ron immediately turned red. “Not me!” he cried out.

Fred and George laughed uproariously from the other side of the table, nudging the other with their elbows.

“No, Ron,” Harry told him patiently. “Seamus.”

“Why do you think that Seamus wasn’t ever fully serious about Lavender, once the two of you broke up?” Fred asked, wheezing through the remains of his laughter.

Ron sputtered for a moment, shaking his head. “I always thought, because he went to the Yule Ball with her...”

“Comfort, Ronniekins,” George said, clearing his throat in an effort to keep speaking. “Seamus wasn’t ready, just like Harry.”

“Seamus and I snogged sixth-year, after I refused to snog Ginny,” Harry admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. He’d never really counted it, as they’d gotten into some Butterbeers at the time, and had promised that it wouldn’t affect their friendship.

Ron made a face. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth, and Harry knew that wouldn’t have done so, had Hermione been there. “Why don’t they just wake up and be together, then?”

“Maybe they need a push, eh, Forge?” Fred asked.

“Perhaps so, Gred, perhaps so,” George responded.

“Or, maybe, we should let them figure it out on their own?” Harry asked, picking up his cutlery, and began slicing into the fried fish. “We’re all adults here. You don’t necessarily know best just because you’re two years older...”

Ron grinned then, putting an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “I see that your years as a part of the Weasley brood have taught you well, mate,” he said approvingly.

Harry followed Ron and the twins back to the shop after they’d finished their lunch, and took a look at their new product lines for the summer. They were debuting new delights for the Skiving Snackboxes, and neither of the twins could’ve been more proud. The new things on offer were Cold Chanillies, Pain Parfaits, Infection Ices, Mump Meringues, Pox Puddings, Malaria Mousse, and Norovirus Nougats. The various colors of the pieces were inspiring, but Harry just hoped that the children buying them wouldn’t end up missing too many of their important lessons as a result.

Pushing the thought from his mind, and also realizing he had an appointment to keep, Harry bade Ron and the twins farewell later in the afternoon. Upon Flooing back into his flat, Harry set to work on tossing up a salad for his dinner, before cooking and adding some blackened chicken into the mix, wanting to keep it light. He sat in the kitchen eating his dinner, the Wizarding Wireless keeping him company, while Hedwig swooped in, and indulged in some owl treats before heading out for her nighttime hunt.

It was still light when Harry showered and changed again for the meeting that evening, selecting a pair of summer, informal dress robes for the occasion. They were a dark green, which made his eyes pop, and he hoped that Severus would notice. He summoned his Firebolt and flew out the door, after casting a Concealing Charm upon himself. He entered via the Muggle entrance of the Fiole Bureau, which was in an old political building on the London High Street. Shrinking down his broom, he stepped out into view, still under the Concealment Charm, and didn’t cancel it until he was in Severus’s domain.

Severus looked slightly taken aback when Harry stepped into view, and Harry did his best to conceal the smirk that threatened to pull at his own lips. “Good evening, Harry,” he said, his velvet voice downright intoxicating as he looked Harry up and down, directly causing Harry to feel utterly and completely delicious and desired. Severus stepped forward, kissing Harry on the cheek, and wrapped an arm around his waist, before proceeding to pull him into a formal meeting room on the opposite end of the corridor.

“Business meeting, remember?” Harry reminded the man, gently shoving the older man’s hand away from the small of his back.

Severus smirked, but did his best at keeping his distance from Harry as they approached the conference room, opening the door for him and allowing him to step inside first. He kept his eyes glued to Harry as the younger man crossed the room, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table, and Severus moved to do the same. He remained silent, barely looking up as a side door of the conference room opened, and Penelope Clearwater stepped inside, giving Harry a small smile as she produced a bottle of the wizarding equivalent of Dom Perignon, which was an elf-made variation called Onier Ordinaire. She banished the respective emerald-encrusted goblets to either side of the table, and then summoned two separate platters from the next room; each one contained an assortment of sweet chestnuts, toast triangles, red grapes and cherries, what appeared to be an aged cheddar, olives, sliced celery, carrots, and snap peas. Harry raised his eyebrows, nodding to Penelope as she moved to leave.

“Thank you, Miss Clearwater,” Severus said smoothly, “that will be all. You are excused for the remainder of the evening. See you at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Good evening, Master Snape, Mr. Potter,” she said formally, before sweeping out of the room, presumably to pack up her desk and leave for the night.

“Impressive,” Harry said, nodding at everything that currently surrounded them. “You truly do like to exercise control in all things.”

Severus smirked. “As I told you upon the occasion of our second meeting.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “Yes. That was not a good day for me.”

“I was merely being honest with you, Harry, and it is through pure selfishness that I allowed myself to see you again. I truly didn’t wish to be so abrupt with you, but we truly have to be on the same page, if we are to truly make a go at a relationship, of any kind.”

Harry looked up at Severus. “I’m pleased that you’re being so honest.”

“I may be controlling, Harry, but I will do my best to never lie to you. I was surrounded by lies from a young age. It is not the way in which I wish to continue my life.”

Harry bit down on his lower lip, internally delighting as Severus visibly stiffened at the movement he made. “How do we do this?” he asked. “There’s no contract...”

“I am not fond in engaging in contracts, unless it is in a professional format,” Severus explained patiently to Harry. “A contract means that I employ your services. Were we to have a contract between the two of us, I would expect some potions work from you. If it was a contract on a personal basis, it would appear as if I own you. While I wish to possess you, Harry, and will be possessive of you, I will never own you.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, clearly more at ease with the situation. “I appreciate you clearing that up for me,” he said with a smile. “It will certainly make things easier in the long run... Well, what shall we discuss first?”

“Diet,” Severus said, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “I won’t tell you what to eat, or when to eat, but I do expect you to maintain an appropriate amount of calories on a daily basis. I will have you meet with my personal healer, Louvenia Wainscott, to ensure that you’re at a good height and weight overall.”

Harry unfolded his hands, which had been resting upon the tabletop, and took ahold of the wine goblet in his hand, seeing an elegant _P_ curved within the emeralds, and quickly deduced that these glasses must’ve been Prince family heirlooms. “What’s the catch, then?” he asked, inhaling the champagne, smelling bergamot, fresh bread, and ginger.

“She will also inform you about acceptable alcohol consumption,” Severus informed him, and Harry casually raised his eyebrows as he slowly drank the champagne. “I was very worried about you the night I found you at The Leaky Cauldron. I will also admit to being jealous about your former schoolmate touching you without your consent...”

Harry smiled, lowering the glass back onto the tabletop. “You can’t know how hard it makes me to know that you were actually jealous,” he said softly.

“Business meeting, remember?” Severus growled, and Harry flashed him an innocent smile, and the man sighed.

“Yes, I suppose so... Well, I agree to meet with your healer, because if you trust her, then so should I,” Harry said reasonably. “What’s next?” he asked.

“Hard limits, I suppose,” Severus responded. He smiled slightly when Harry raised his eyebrows once again. “What you’re absolutely not willing to try,” he elaborated.”

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, unsure how to go about explaining it to the man, for he likely had a voracious appetite for all things sexual, but he didn’t want to be demeaned or humiliated in any way... “I don’t subscribe to any kind of demeaning or humiliation actions,” he said softly.

Severus raised his eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t want anything to do with urine or feces in a sexual sense,” Harry said with a shudder. “I just... It makes me sick. Please don’t make me...”

Severus lifted his hand, cutting Harry off. “Neither do I,” he assured the younger man, wanting nothing more than to pull him into his arms and comfort him. “While I don’t know personally if anyone I’m in contact with subscribes to those kinks, I myself am not one of them. We need not discuss it further.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, relaxing once again.

“Do go on,” Severus encouraged.

“Traditional rough sex should be fine,” Harry told him. “But I don’t want to be in pain. Sore, yes; that I can handle. Pain? No.”

Severus nodded. “I can agree to that. Anything further?”

Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed from within his throat. “I won’t tolerate being tied up, using toys, blindfolded, or top,” he said quickly, wanting desperately to get what he was not willing to do over with.

Severus smiled, thankful that Harry was being so up-front. “I agree,” he said, not wanting Harry to be uncomfortable with him.

Harry swallowed. “Further,” he went on, flushing, “Ron has a lot of older brothers. Fred and George, while not gay, know a lot about it, because their older brother, Charlie, is...”

“Did they inform you of something, then?” Severus asked, popping a grape into his mouth.

Harry gripped his robes I his fists, from where they currently rested upon his lap. “Yes,” he admitted. “Fisting...anal fisting...”

“I’m all ears,” Severus said.

“Strike it out of your mind,” Harry said abruptly. “Never going to happen. I’m not even willing to try it.”

Severus nodded; he had done it on his lovers in the past, but only when they had wanted it, as he had never particularly enjoyed it. “Very well, then,” he said softly.

Harry leaned forward then; he had done some investigating of his own, and he wanted to know how far he could go without making Severus squirm. “What are butt plugs?”

Severus looked shocked at Harry’s blasé manner, and smirked. “Don’t you know what they are, Harry?” he asked. “After all, they’re pretty self-explanatory...”

Harry grinned. “Of course I know what they are,” he said; and he did, he truly had just wanted to make the man squirm. “Those aren’t happening either,” he declared.

Severus grinned at him. “Will there be anything else, Harry?”

“Outings,” Harry said, knowing that this was him putting all of his cards on the table, so to speak, as he desperately wanted his way on this.

“How do you mean?” Severus asked.

“Dates,” he said softly. “I want to be seen in public with you. I don’t want to be kept like a dirty little secret. If we have so much fun in the bedroom, who’s to say we can’t outside of it? I want something out of this, too, you know...”

“You would have me, Harry.”

Harry lowered his eyes. “And I want you,” he admitted, now gripping upon the edge of the table as he found he could no longer keep control of his emotions. “But I want it all. I know you said that you didn’t do that, but that’s what I need. If we can’t come to some sort of agreement, then I don’t know how this is going to work...”

“This is what you meant in Godric’s Hollow, isn’t it?” Severus asked, watching Harry as the younger man slowly raised his eyes to his. “When you said you wanted more?”

Harry nodded. “Yes. This is what I meant,” he said softly.

Severus slowly lifted his goblet to his lips and sipped from it, never taking his eyes off of Harry, and seemed to come to a decision. “I found I was not averse to experiencing what you call more with you,” he said softly.

Harry straightened in his seat then. “Really?”

“Really,” the man assured him. “As such, I would be willing to explore what all this ‘more’ means, considering that it seems to mean a lot to you.”

Harry shook his head. “You can’t do it just for me, Severus. It’ll never work if you don’t end up enjoying yourself as well.”

Severus smiled slowly then. “I enjoy my time with you, Harry.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “And not just in the bedroom?” he asked.

Severus grinned. “No, Harry. Not just in the bedroom,” he assured him.

“Good to know,” Harry responded.

Severus slowly lowered the goblet back down onto the tabletop. “Are you going to stay?” he asked, slowly looking up at Harry.

“Stay? What do you mean?”

“I mean with me. Are you going to stay here with me, and likely Floo home with me once I’ve completed my work?”

Harry bit his lip softly then. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Oh, I want you to stay very much, Harry,” Severus responded. “And I can see from here that you’re flushed, so you want to stay as much as I want you do.”

“It could just be from the wine,” Harry whispered.

Severus smirked. “Perhaps,” he allowed.

Harry slowly dragged his tongue over his bottom lip, and quickly noticed that Severus’s eyes dilated at the gesture. “Say I did stay,” he whispered, but knew quite well that Severus could still hear him. “What would happen?”

Severus leaned back in his chair, every inch a sex god. “I would want to get you out of those beautiful robes of yours, and I would be pleased to find that you were naked underneath,” he declared, and slowly took off his outer robe himself. “Then, I would advance towards you, and lift you up by your waist onto the table with such force that the goblets would shatter, and the crudité would end up falling to the floor. Next, I would taste every inch of that delectable and delicious body of yours, before grabbing you by the hips, and sampling that delicious arse of yours, which I neglected to do last time. Further, I would wait until you were stretched appropriately, with you clamping around my fingers, begging for me to get you off as I repeatedly grazed your prostate. Following that, I would order you to slick me up yourself, and then I would shove my way into your body, savoring the sensation of you clamping around my cock, while all the while you continue to beg me for more. And finally, you would beg me to come inside you, which I would do, while simultaneously stroking you feverishly into your own climax,” he said softly.

Harry smiled, managing to hold himself together so that he didn’t come. “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go home,” he said softly.

Severus nodded his head, slowly getting to his feet and guiding Harry out of there. They walked to the edge of the wards together, and Severus watched with disdain as Harry removed and unshrunk his broom from his pocket. “The Firebolt?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

Severus sighed. “Won’t you consider riding the supreme?”

“Perhaps one day, when this one wears out,” Harry said, grinning at him.

Severus shook his head. “You truly are a stubborn one, Harry Potter,” he said.

Harry stood on his toes, kissing Severus as deeply as he dared before pulling away from him. “I suppose that’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor,” he said with a grin, before he stepped outside the wards, down the corridor, and out into Muggle London.

~*~

Harry was slightly annoyed when Ron suddenly announced that he would be staying with Hermione at the Granger’s house in Cumbria before Hermione began her position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Ron started at the Auror Academy. Because of this, Harry no longer had the option of taking his best friends with him to Gringotts to see the contents of his vaults. And that was what found Harry walking through Diagon Alley with none other than Severus Snape on the day in question, after he had Floo’d the man, requesting his company at the bank that afternoon.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Harry said softly.

Severus smiled at him. “It’s my pleasure, Harry,” the man responded.

Harry and Severus mounted the stone steps of the ancient white marble bank, and, as they stepped inside, the wards briefly hummed around them, altering the goblins to their presence there. Harry lowered his eyes to the highly-polished marble flooring, and realized that not even the goblins spared expense when it came to architecture. It was the clicking of tiny feet which caused him to look up again, and Harry smiled automatically at the sight of Ricbert, who had been in charge of his vaults for as long as he could remember.

Ricbert immediately held out his hand for Harry to shake; his hairline was receding greatly now, and the wisps of white upon his head were few and far between. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, come, come,” he said warmly. “Ah. A guest, I see? Master Snape,” the goblin said, his dark eyes sparkling as he took ahold of the potion master’s hand. “It is indeed an honor, sir.”

“A pleasure,” Severus said with a nod, accepting the handshake.

Ricbert motioned for them to follow, and took them down a long corridor and into his office. It was a comical sight to see Ricbert hopping up onto his desk chair, and he pulled a series of parchments towards him, nodding to himself as he looked them over. “As you know, Mr. Potter, the holdings of the Potter, Black, and Peverell all belong to you outright, and now you are in a position to claim them. As such, given that you have completed your studies at the wizarding university with flying colors, the Potter and Peverell holdings may now pass to you. The Black holdings were given to you upon your graduation from Hogwarts, but you decided to hold off on receiving everything in full until your graduation from university.”

Harry nodded from where he sat on the other side of the desk. “That’s correct.”

“I have here preliminary fortunes, property, and valuables for each vault here,” Ricbert went on, and pushed the parchments across the table towards him. “As you can see, your fortune is several million Galleons altogether, making you a very rich man, Mr. Potter. As for the properties, the Potter, Black, and Peverell families had a great many, and not just in Great Britain. The houses include cottages and houses scattered around Europe; chalets in Switzerland, Monaco, and Austria; chateaus all around France; a few villas in Italy; mansions in Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg; farmhouses in Australia, New Zealand, and all across Scandinavia; plus at least one castle in every major country in Europe...” The goblin took this opportunity to look up at his young client, who was staring at him, open-mouthed. “Are you doing quite all right, Mr. Potter?” he asked.

“I believe Mr. Potter is in a state of shock,” Severus replied easily. “Would you be so kind as to procure a glass of water for him?”

“Yes, of course, Master Snape,” Ricbert replied, hopping off from his desk chair and scuttling out of his office.

“Harry, breathe,” Severus said, putting an arm around his shoulders and rubbing his back. “It’s quite common that older families will have numerous properties. It’s nothing to be ashamed or worried about, I assure you.”

Harry nodded, although the movement was jerkier than Severus would have liked. “What about the Prince family?” he asked softly. “Do they have many properties?”

Severus smiled. “Yes, they do, although Mother tends to remain at the main estate,” he told his lover, wanting to be patient with him. “It’s Father who likes that one, as it is the only one they’re able to accommodate Muggle inventions at.”

Harry nodded, straightening up when Ricbert returned with a glass of water for him, although he was pleased that Severus kept an arm around his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said softly to the goblin, and slowly sipped the water.

“I apologize if I was so hasty in explaining your properties, Mr. Potter,” Ricbert said, looking quite cowed. “It is merely my excitement getting the better of me...”

Severus lowered his eyes and regarded the goblin. “You have been in charge of the holdings for quite a long time, if I’m to understand correctly.”

“Exactly, Master Snape,” Ricbert said with a nod. “I’ve been waiting quite a long time for Harry to reach the appropriate age, and have all of the appropriate qualifications, to get all the information that is his due.” His gaze swiveled onto Harry, and was relieved to see that his client had most of his color back. “I would understand if you would wait until a later date in which to see the contents of your vaults, Mr. Potter...”

“No, thank you, Ricbert,” Harry said, now having finished his glass of water, which he banished back to where it had come from. “I would like to see them, with Severus, today, if that is still possible, of course.”

“Of course it is, Mr. Potter. I’ve cleared four hours of my schedule to accommodate you today, as previously discussed. Now,” he said, walking back towards the door of his office, “feel free to shrink down those parchments and take them with you. As you can see, they have Apparition coordinates and Floo Network passwords, should you want to visit them.” He smiled at his client, very excited now. “If you would like to follow me,” he went on, once Harry had shrunk down the parchments, “we can find ourselves a cart and get to your vault.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, moving to follow the goblin, Severus at his heels. “I would like to see the Potter vault first...”

“Oh, the Peverell vault combined with the Potter one centuries ago,” Ricbert said, smiling at Harry as they walked. “I should have mentioned that,” he muttered to himself as they advanced upon the entrance to the vaults. Snapping his gnarled hands, a cart came careening down the tracks and towards them, and Ricbert perched in the front, while Harry and Severus made their way into the back. “Hold on,” the goblin instructed, and began to steer the cart along the tracks in the proper direction.

Harry felt relieved as Severus’s hand found his as the cart pulled them this way and that. When they finally came to a stop in front of a familiar-looking vault, Harry thanked Ricbert and got to his feet, almost stumbling over, were it not for the delicious and strong hands of Severus coming around him. Harry sighed, sinking into the man’s embrace for a moment as Ricbert used his claw to undo the locking mechanism in the stone door of his vault, which squeaked open, and Harry stood on the threshold, taking in the piles of Galleons, and looked over them, seeing bookshelves stuffed to the brim, trunks, and what appeared to be wardrobes.

“Take all the time you like, Mr. Potter,” Ricbert said from behind him.

Harry nodded, and felt Severus’s hand in his as they crossed the threshold. They went their separate ways, with Harry making his way to what appeared to be a portrait gallery, while Severus perused the bookshelves on the other side of the vault. Harry smiled at the portraits of his ancestors, who all waved eagerly at him, but made no move to speak. Such actions filled Harry with relief, as he suddenly found he wouldn’t have known what to say.

Harry then proceeded to look at some artifacts and jewelry, finding a silver dagger with red rubies encrusted upon it. Shrinking it down and pocketing it, he decided to make a present of it to Ron, who would likely be over the moon at the miniature Sword of Gryffindor lookalike. As Harry looked further upon the edges of the bookshelves he found, he found many tomes and dusty-looking volumes, knowing that Hermione would likely be salivating right about now. He shook his head, knowing he would have to make a return trip to show her around, and took ahold of a first-edition copy of _An Arithmancer’s Almanac_ by Elmira Harpthorn, which Hermione had always wanted to read but had never managed to find a copy. Harry decided to make this a gift to her, as he himself would never need a copy, and knew just how much it would mean for his best friend to have such a thing.

“Harry...”

“Yes, Severus?” he asked, looking up. They had been inside the Potter and Peverell vault for over two hours by that point, and Harry smiled to see that Severus was cradling several books up against his chest. “Have you found something?”

“ _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ by Owle Bullock, _Magick Moste Evile_ by Godelot, _Dark Magick Chronicles_ by Leora Staghart, _Spells of the Dark Arts_ Cicero Gosling, _Incantations for Advanced Dark Arts_ by Mason Kettles, _Book of Potions_ by Zygmunt Budge, _Moste Potente Potions_ by Phineas Bourne, _Tinctures and Treatments_ by Alvena Evergreen, _Concoctions of Medieval Europe_ by Godfrey Rosewood, _Brews and Elixirs of Life and Death_ by Avery Falcon, _Remedies for Magical Creatures_ by Francisca Cross, _Infections Made Right: Reversal Effects and Cures_ by Aubrey Fourpetal... Harry, do you understand? All of these are first-editions and valued at millions of Galleons...”

Harry smiled. “It appears as if you’ve found many things.”

Severus nodded tentatively. “Yes. I believe that all of these could help me conquer the new strain of Dragon Pox, as well as eradicate the symptoms of lycanthropy entirely... Not to mention what else I’d be capable of...”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “So, you’re saying that you could help people, so much so that you could improve their quality of life twofold?”

“If not more,” Severus replied, reverently stroking the books.

“Keep them.”

Severus’s gaze snapped up to Harry’s. “What?”

“Keep them, take them,” Harry told him with a smile.

Severus shook his head. “Harry, these are worth millions... I would insist upon paying you, and even then, I wouldn’t be able to afford more than one at a time, and I would still have to pay you in installments...”

Harry shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. They’re yours.”

“Harry, I cannot just...”

“Yes, you can,” Harry said firmly. “Severus, as much as I love and respect potions and the Dark Arts, I can’t see myself making a career out of them. Think about it—the books would be lying in here, gathering dust. If you were to take them, you could save lives. Think about Remus, and his wife and children. They need their husband and father with them. Think about all the children in St. Mungo’s with Dragon Pox. You could ensure that a new inoculation could eradicate the disease in our world entirely. You could do such great things with these books, and I won’t have your pride getting in the way of that.”

Severus sighed, running his fingers over the spines and covers. “Very well, Harry,” he said at last, and crossed over to Ricbert, to give him strict instructions about having them delivered to his office. “On the condition that I can take you to lunch.”

Harry grinned. “Deal.”

Once the pair of them had finished up for the day in the vault, with plans to come back again, Harry twice over, as he had to take Ron and Hermione as well, they left the bank and stepped out into Diagon Alley. Harry permitted Severus to pull him gently along the cobblestones, and was taken into a posh-looking bistro. He’d heard about it in _The Quibbler_ , with Xenophilius, Luna, and Neville all giving it resounding praise. The bistro itself was called The Nourishing Nymph, and was done up in dark wood paneling with cream-colored walls.

Harry and Severus were taken to a circular table beside the window, and Harry thanked the host for the menu, as Severus sat across from him and took one as well. Harry ultimately decided upon bangers and mash, while Severus opted for the cottage pie. Harry ordered a pumpkin juice while Severus requested a glass of McSpratts. Harry smiled to himself, pleased with the entirety of the situation.

“You seem pleased with yourself,” Severus observed as their drinks floated soundlessly over to their table.

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose that this is a date...”

“So it would seem,” Severus said with a nod. “Our second, if we’re to be technical.”

“I’d very much enjoy being technical,” Harry responded.

Severus smirked. “Quite.”

“I loved the way you came alive when you found all those books,” Harry said quietly, picking up his pumpkin juice and sipping at it. “You looked as if you really cared about all the people you could potentially help.”

“I do care, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you did not. It’s just an entirely different situation when you know it intuitively, and then when you see it...” He found himself smiling again. “You were just...”

“I was what, Harry?”

“Beautiful,” he whispered, locking eyes with Severus to assure him of his sincerity. “I’ve never seen someone so passionate like that. Ron, of course, and Hermione, too, are enthusiastic about their projects and whatnot, but... It’s an entirely different experience when you see someone, someone you care about so much, look so utterly unfazed by everything around them, and just look so honest about their feelings towards their work. You really do love potions and the Dark Arts, Severus Snape and, based on the fervor and the research you put into your work, the Wizarding World is a better place.”

Severus stared at Harry as he spoke, and barely registered the waiter coming by with their lunch platters. As it was a wizarding establishment, food took much less time to cook, and, while Molly Weasley, too used magic in her kitchen, the tender-loving-care she utilized when cooking for her beloved family was all Muggle.

“Harry...”

“Yes?” Harry whispered.

“Do you fancy taking our lunch to go?”

Harry felt his face warming up then. “And where do you propose we take it?” he whispered, and he could feel adrenaline pumping through his body.

“I propose we take it to my home, where I fuck you as hard as I can into the mattress, and then we can reheat this as soon as we pause for a breather,” Severus responded.

Harry felt himself warming all over, and he turned to catch the waiter’s eye. Once that was achieved, he threw up his hand, and yelled, “Cheque, please!”


	7. Beyond the Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient! Now, I would like you very much to meet someone...

Harry found that he was still deliciously sore from his and Severus’s romp the last time their schedules permitted them seeing one another. It wasn’t until the third Friday in July that they could see one another again, so when Harry stepped through the Floo, he was immediately caught by Severus and taken upstairs. Harry had slowly but surely grown addicted to Severus’s kisses, and, as he was tossed onto the bed, his clothes vanishing with a spell, he felt goosebumps erupting upon the surface of his flesh as Severus bent down.

“I am so sorry that my potions kept me from you, Harry,” he whispered, dragging his hand along between the planes of his shoulders. “You’re so beautiful like this,” the man declared, licking the shell of Harry’s ear, and smirking as Harry trembled from beneath him, “beautiful, and all just for me...”

“Always for you,” Harry whispered back.

Severus lowered his hands, taking ahold of Harry’s hips and pulling them upwards, causing Harry to grunt at the unexpectedness of the movement. Parting his arse cheeks, Severus dragged his nose along Harry’s perineum, which made Harry mewl into the pillow he clutched. Sticking out his tongue, Severus caressed the pucker of Harry’s anus, and Harry let out a series of moans into his pillow.

“Mine,” Severus growled, slamming his tongue into Harry, as well as wandlessly and wordlessly summoning his tub of lubricant.

“Yes, yours... Always yours— Oh, Merlin!” Harry shouted as Severus managed to stretch him with both fingers _and_ tongue. Harry concentrated on the burn to keep himself from coming, and was rewarded when Severus slammed into him, once he had been prepared.

“So tight for me,” Severus observed, running his hand up and down Harry’s back. “Is this some kind of sorcery?” he joked.

“No,” Harry told him, his tone husky, “unless you count your potions as such. I use the cream on me every night before bed...

Severus smirked; he had given Harry the cream—a cream of his own invention—after their last time together. Not only did it clean and lubricate the passage, but it also kept things tight. It would feel as if it was their first time all over again, and so Severus knew he would savor their future couplings all the more for it. Finally, at Harry’s grunt, Severus pulled himself out of Harry before slamming back into him, moving his hands onto the younger man’s hips, so as to better control the situation.

“Wonderful,” Severus groaned.

“Severus!” Harry shouted. “Oh, Merlin, Severus!”

Severus moved one hand from Harry’s hip to reach between his legs, grabbing ahold of the engorged member which had sprung free between them. “Come, Harry!” he ordered. “Come for me, now!”

Harry arched himself up against Severus’s body, and let out a keening wail as he erupted all over Severus’s fingers. “Severus,” he whimpered, and this was the older man’s undoing, as he emptied himself into Harry’s willing arse.

Waving his hand, Severus cleaned himself and Harry, as well as the bedspread, and gently eased Harry down onto it. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

Harry smiled, content as a cat. “Mmm-hmm,” he replied.

Severus tangled his fingers into Harry’s fringe momentarily before kissing him upon the forehead, and eased himself out of bed. “Rest now,” he ordered gently. “Come out whenever you’re ready,” he concluded before slipping out of the master suite.

~*~

Harry opened his eyes and looked around; the sun was just beginning to set, and it looked quite pretty. Easing himself out of bed and delighting in the soreness in his arse, he noticed a note from Severus, telling him to shower. Smiling to himself, Harry did so, finding that the water pressure was a lot better than that of his flat in London. Smiling to himself, Harry exited the shower and returned to the bedroom, slightly surprised to see a pair of silk, bottle-green dress robes at the foot of the bed.

Perplexed, Harry adhered to the note and changed into them, casting a Drying Spell on his hair and a Cleaning Charm onto his teeth. Annoyed that his hair wouldn’t cooperate, Harry stepped into the black, patent leather dress shoes and slipped out of the bedroom. He made his way down the hallway and towards the stairs, managing to get down them without ruining what must’ve been the very new and very expensive dress robes.

Looking up, Harry spotted Severus, who was currently standing beside the floor-to-ceiling French doors, and gazing out into the small potions garden. “Where are we going?” he asked softly, his heard slamming from within his breast as Severus turned around, his black silk robes completely immaculate.

“Remember how my mother mentioned dinner?” Severus asked, and smiled at Harry. “She has requested our presence tonight at Prince Estate.”

Harry returned the man’s smile, quite positive that no other of Severus’s companions had had the pleasure of dining in his ancestral family home. Hesitating upon the base of the stairs, he was perplexed to see a Muggle radio, and Severus waved a hand towards it as he approached Harry, offering his hand. “What are you...?”

“‘ _I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh lord. And I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life, oh lord_...’”

Harry felt something thrumming from within him as he listened to the words of Phil Collins coming though the radio. So much so that Severus gently pulled him from the base of the stairs and into the living room was a complete surprise, and directly caused Harry to bit his lip at the implications of the older man.

“What is it?” Severus asked.

“I can’t dance,” Harry admitted, flushing.

“That’s all right,” Severus told him, moving Harry’s hands where he wanted them. “Just feel the music, and follow my movements.”

“‘ _Well, if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand. I’ve seen your face before, my friend, but I don’t know if you know who I am_...’”

Severus effortlessly spun Harry around, and Harry turned, before leaning back into Severus’s arms, eyes shut, head resting upon the man’s shoulder. Severus kept dancing with Harry until the song ended, before he switched off the radio and led Harry outside. Telling him that they would Apparate to the manor, Harry nodded and clung to Severus as instructed.

The expansive grounds of Prince Estate, located in Warwick, came into view as soon as Severus and Harry landed upon the grounds. Harry looked wonderingly up at the beautiful architecture of the estate, and accepted Severus’s hand as they walked up the drive and towards the formal double-doors, which must’ve served as the main entrance. Harry felt the wards humming all around him, which was perplexing, as he was only aware of Eileen Prince being the only magical being in residence.

“Hello, dears,” said Eileen, her black eyes shining as she opened the door. “Welcome to Prince Manor, Harry.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Severus muttered, and Eileen stood there, still beaming and unrepentant, and Severus sighed. “Mother, why didn’t you tell us—?”

“Mum, is that them?” came a squeal from within, as a beautiful girl with long, raven hair and bright blue eyes came into view, before coming to a standstill beside Eileen.

“Come off it, Severus,” Eileen said, tutting impatiently as she guided the young woman beside her inside the house. “That’s no way to treat your sister.”

“Sister?” Harry demanded, turning to look at Severus.

“Steora Prince,” she said, putting out her hand, before thinking better of the formality and outright embracing Harry. “Dad wasn’t best pleased when I came along to discover that I was a witch, too,” she reported, her voice downright lyrical in Harry’s ear.

“Because of that, Mother had to give you her name,” Severus stated, and somehow managed to pull Harry out of Steora’s arms.

Steora shrugged her shoulders as she pulled back, her willowy frame quite beautiful, Harry had to admit. “I was two years ahead of you at Hogwarts,” she said, brightening again as she looked at Harry, who smiled back.

“Were you?” he asked.

“Yes, and she disgraced the family by being sorted Ravenclaw,” Severus muttered.

Steora lightly slapped Severus upon the arm. “I apologize for my less-than-satisfactory potion marks, brother...”

“You brewed just fine, and your OWLs and NEWTs reflected that,” Severus responded, almost as if he didn’t want to fully admit to it, and Harry and Steora locked eyes, laughing. “However, you lacked the passion necessary to do it for a living, earning and Exceeds Expectations in both examinations...”

“What is it you do, then?” Harry asked, as Severus moved to escort Eileen from the entryway, leaving Harry to offer his arm to Steora, who accepted it.

Steora smiled, eyes shining as she took his arm. “Severus always claimed that ministry jobs were boorish, which is exactly why I had to get one,” she told him. “I’m an Auror, but I’m afraid I cannot tell you more than that. Classified case information, you know.”

“I do, actually,” Harry replied. “My godfather’s wife is an Auror, and my best mate is due to begin at the academy come September.”

“Who is your godfather’s wife?”

“Nymphadora Tonks,” he told her.

“She was my mentor,” Steora said, beaming. “She’s wonderful. She was a fifth year when I arrived at Hogwarts, and even though she sorted Hufflepuff, I always admired her,” she went on, as they passed through what appeared to be a portrait gallery. “She was very understanding about my condition, you know...”

“Condition?” Harry asked.

Steora raised her eyebrows. “You mean, Severus did not tell you?”

Harry shook his head. “Considering I didn’t even know you existed before tonight, no, I can rightly say I’m walking blind here...”

“Silly me, of course,” Steora said, and smiled. “It’s similar to lycanthropy, I suppose, except I’m not a werewolf.”

“What is it?”

“Severus took to calling it Bastet’s Bewitchment,” the Auror whispered. “Every month, I have to take this foul-smelling, dreadful-tasting white potion called Bastet’s Benediction, which Severus created and brews himself.”

“So, it’s a cat curse, then?”

Steora grinned. “Yes, I’m afraid so. And not a black cat—that would be far too simple an cliché for whoever did this to me.”

“What is the creature, then?”

“Sekhmet, the form of an Egyptian goddess,” she said softly. “So, in an essence, I retain my body during the transformation...”

“...but your head is that of a lioness,” Harry whispered, and Steora smiled.

“Yes. Although I do develop cat-like reflexes, with the elegance of a dancer... At least, that’s what Severus tells me whenever he observes me,” she said with a laugh.

“How long have you been...? Oh, sorry,” Harry said as they reached the end of the hallway of the portrait gallery. “That was rude.”

“Not at all, I don’t mind,” Steora said with a small smile. “Since the summer of my birth, at the end of June,” she said. “I was born in mid-April. The curse took hold upon the final day of June, upon the occasion of Severus’s commencement from Hogwarts.”

“Merlin, how frightening,” Harry whispered.

“It wasn’t all bad, although the worst of it passed without me having to remember it. It took a few years for Severus to perfect the formula,” she explained.

“Perfect it? How?” Harry queried.

“Holy water, diluted with tears of a virgin,” Steora said with a shrug. “Other ingredients include phoenix tears, the Seven Holy Herbs, irises, daffodils, birch bark, and crushed pearls. The final ingredient turns it white.”

Harry was about to speak further, but cut himself off as they stepped into an opulent dining room with finely-carved cherry wood furniture within it. Upon the ceiling hung a genuine crystal-cut chandelier; the green wallpapered walls were adorned with landscape scenes in oils; the highly-polished dining table was situated in the center of the room, atop a beautiful rug with a red border, and adorned with pink blossoms and golden birds; a massive fireplace roared upon the other side of the room, with the mantle boasting candlesticks, and the space above featuring a portrait of Tobias Snape, Eileen, Severus, and Steora; another wall was taken up by bay windows with a green and white striped cushioned seat upon them; and, finally, an impressive eighteenth-century grandfather clock ticked merrily away beside the window.

Just as he continued to admire the sheer beauty that was the dining room at Prince Estate, a rather ugly and abrupt clearing of the throat interrupted him. Lowering his eyes, Harry spotted Tobias Snape, in the flesh, for the first time, as he exited what appeared to be a gentlemen’s parlor beyond. Harry recalled how Severus had informed him that they’d gotten a Muggle television to work within the walls of the manor, and assumed that the room that Tobias had just left had the object in question.

“Well, you’ve arrived, then,” Tobias said gruffly; his blue Muggle suit had clearly seen better days, and he had an air of generational drunkenness around him that made Harry happy to have his wand.

“Father,” Severus said stiffly, kissing his mother upon the cheek before he stepped away from her, switching places with Steora, and came to stand beside Harry. “This is Harry Potter. He is my companion.”

Tobias rolled his black eyes, clearly displeased with what his only son was insinuating. “Very well,” he muttered, crossing to the seat at the head of the table, and getting sloppily into it. “I want my dinner!” he suddenly bellowed, slamming his hand, palm down, onto the surface of the table, causing the good china and silver which lay upon it to shudder. “Eileen! Where’s that wretched creature you insist on keeping?!” he demanded.

Eileen plastered an uncomfortable smile onto her face. “Be seated, everyone,” she said softly, and took the seat at the foot of the table, with Severus sitting at Tobias’s right hand, and Steora at his left, leaving Harry to sit beside Severus. “Flitty!” Eileen called out.

A delicate-looking house-elf appeared, her House of Prince uniform not an inch out of place, as her luminescent silver eyes looked up at Eileen. “Mistress Eileen has called for Flitty?” came the squeak of a voice.

“Yes, thank you, Flitty,” Eileen said softly. “Please serve the first course.”

“Very good, mistress,” replied Flitty, who disappeared with a crack, and white wine glasses appeared on the table, filling with the alcoholic nectar.

Harry gasped at the combination of magic and beauty then as a salad appeared on all of their respective plates. Upon a bed of wilted greens were delicately-sliced peaches, with asparagus adorning the border, cucumbers cut like full moons, and topped with feta, olive oil, black pepper, and walnuts. Harry only lifted his salad fork when permitted and encouraged to do so by Eileen, and began to eat the salad. The greens were tender, and the asparagus and the cucumbers crunched delightfully in his mouth. The feta was a symphony of flavor, and the olive oil bathed it perfectly. As for the walnuts and black pepper, they were perfect accompaniments to everything else, and Harry was most pleased with the first course.

Once the salad bowls were cleared away, the main course arrived upon the plates below, and it proved to be one of Harry’s favorites. The parmesan chicken cutlets were cooked to perfection, with lemon basil pasta by its side, and green beans topped with tomatoes finished it off. Harry tried not to eat too quickly, but it was so delicious that he almost couldn’t help himself. It was a pleasant feeling, to feel Severus’s hand on his leg mid-way through dinner.

“Severus mentioned you studied English literature,” Steora said softly, sipping at her glass of wine, her blue eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Harry nodded. “I did, yes. I got my degree a few weeks ago from the Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry,” he said softly, looking at Tobias, who merely grunted into his glass of wine, drinking from it deeply.

“Calming Draught,” Severus whispered to him, and Harry nodded before he turned back to address Steora again.

“I was wondering if you attended Vaenmiara?” he asked politely.

Steora smiled and shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t take me...”

“The fact of the matter is, Harry, they _couldn’t_ take her,” Severus corrected.

Harry blinked. “Why not?”

“Her NEWTs were far too impressive,” Eileen said, looking indulgently at her daughter, her eyes filled with love. “The bylaws of the wizarding universities are that the student must not only be willing to attend, but that their NEWTs reflect someone who could benefit from a more advanced academic setting.”

“And, due to the highness of her scores, she was considered ineligible,” Severus said.

“I joined the Auror Academy right after graduation,” Steora said proudly. “Tonks really helped me out those first couple of years. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

“I just joined because it’s what my parents wanted,” Harry said softly.

“Did they harp on you constantly?” Steora asked, laughing, only to see the small smile Harry gave to her in return, and immediately regretted her words. “Oh... Oh, Merlin, Harry. I’m so sorry...”

Harry shook his head. “It’s all right. They were the final victims of Tom Riddle,” he said, and hunched his shoulders ever so slightly.

“I wrote the Wizengamot in support of giving him the veil,” Eileen said softly, twirling a bit of pasta on her fork. “Taking parents away from an eighteen-month-old baby... That blaggard didn’t deserve to live another moment.”

Severus cleared his throat, leading to a change in subject, and that of the new research he was developing in reference to his advancements on the Wolfsbane Potion. A berry trifle came in for their dessert, which Harry devoured, pleased with himself. As he chewed, he turned his head as Eileen addressed him.

“Harry, dear,” she asked, “now that you’ve graduated, are you thinking about what you may want to do with your degree?”

“I’m still sifting through job offers at the moment, Eileen,” he responded.

“Good,” Eileen said, nodding her head. “So many young people just want to rush into things after receiving their qualifications. Taking some time to decide for yourself is a very well-thought-out decision, Harry.”

“Thank you, Eileen.”

“And what of the rest of your summer?” Eileen wanted to know. “Surely, you’ve got a few exciting things planned...”

“Well, I always visit Godric’s Hollow a few times,” Harry told her. “In fact, I’ve been invited by my godfather the following week, and I’ve accepted the invitation...”

“Excuse me,” Severus said abruptly, wiping his mouth with his serviette and getting to his feet, and taking Harry by the hand. “I promised I’d show Harry the potions gardens.”

Harry had no time to excuse himself properly, and was promptly dragged from the dining room and through the gentlemen’s parlor. He barely got a look at the décor before he was pulled out via two French doors, across a stone walkway with led to a bridge, and into what appeared to be a giant greenhouse. Upon closer examination once they arrived, however, it was a Victorian conservatory, complete with multi-levels of varying plants; the ground floor was taken up by a lily pond, but Severus merely pulled him along the main floor, before he stopped them, and yanked Harry halfway into his arms.

“Severus, what...?” Harry squawked.

“You’re mine, all mine,” Severus growled at him.

Harry blinked. “We’ve established this already,” he replied, biting his lower lip. “I don’t understand why you insist upon bringing it up...”

“Because you insist upon making plans which don’t include me,” Severus said, quickly managing to lose his patience.

Harry sighed. “You still have your own life, and things you enjoy doing,” he protested. “Do you expect me to be tied to your bed at all hours of the day? Because if that’s what you want, Severus, this is not going to work.”

Severus loosened his hold upon Harry ever so slightly. “I apologize,” he replied. “I was merely blindsided by jealousy, and a wish that you would confide in me more.”

“When?” Harry cried out, tears springing to his eyes, and hating that he was crying right now, in front of Severus. “When was I supposed to tell you, Severus? Me announcing that I’m going to visit my godfather is hardly appropriate pillow talk...”

“Are you implying that we have too much sex?”

Harry sighed. “No, of course I’m not...”

“Then what is it, Harry? What’s bothering you?”

“I’m upset that you act like I’m a piece of property that you own or something,” Harry said, the tears streaming down his face now. “That’s not what this is, and you know it... Dragging me off to scold me like a child for living my life, when I’ve never complained once of the long hours you have to work on your potions...”

“Harry, please,” Severus said.

Harry shook his head, and untangled himself from Severus’s arms. “I just... I need some space right now, Severus,” he said brokenly, before exiting the conservatory and Apparating away from Prince Estate.

~*~

Godric’s Hollow, despite the horror that Harry had been through as a child there, would always bring him a sense of comfort, due to the fact that Remus, Tonks, and Baby Hope lived there. It was on an overcast Monday that Harry arrived, after the disastrous Friday night dinner at Prince Estate, and Harry was prepared to put it out of his mind for a while. Baby Hope proved to be a worthy distraction, and Harry found himself an expert at changing nappies.

Later on that afternoon, he took Teddy, who had been cooped up in the house all day, to the local play park down the road. Harry would laugh whenever the child would demand that Harry watch him, and was pleased that they lived in a world where Teddy could be a child. Pushing the thought from his mind, about an hour later, Harry called for Teddy and took him by the hand, listening to him chatter away as they meandered back to the cottage.

Once they stepped inside, and Teddy went blitzing into the kitchen for a snack, Harry spotted Remus sitting in the parlor.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

Remus nodded. “Yes. Tonks is putting Hope down for a nap.”

Harry nodded back. “All right.”

Remus sighed. “Owl for you,” he said, and banished a letter into Harry’s hands.

Harry sighed, recognizing the handwriting, and opened it with a Cutting Spell.

_Dearest Harry,_

_Please forgive me if I am interrupting your visit, I merely wished to know how you are. All the Weasleys at the Burrow kept telling me you were out whenever I Floo’d this weekend. Forgive my concern, but I was, and have been, worried about you._

_I wish to apologize again for my abrupt words to you Friday last. You did not deserve them. I should have informed you calmly what was bothering me, not shouted at you, or made you feel as if you were chattel. You aren’t that, Harry—you are an amazing, forthright individual who deserves ever so much._

_I hope this letter finds you well. Please, if you have a spare moment and would like to, I would welcome a reply._

_Yours,_

_Severus_

Harry sighed, banishing the letter to the guest room, and could hear Teddy wandering down the hallway towards his playroom. “It has been difficult,” he said softly.

Remus smiled. “You are both notoriously stubborn, so I would imagine so.”

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t aware, apart from your monthly potion, that you were ever in regular contact.”

Remus’s eyes looked saddened then. “We are, because of Hope.”

At once, Harry sat bolt-upright in his seat. “Remus?”

His godfather swallowed. “Tonks and I noticed it a few weeks ago, shortly after you left here the last time,” he reported. “She was particularly fussy, but it wasn’t until the full moon that Tonks looked in on her, and saw the baby werewolf in her crib...”

“Remus, Merlin, I’m so sorry...”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Remus replied. “Wolfsbane, while toxic for children under thirteen, was a basis for Severus to create something else, something that could help Hope in her werewolf journey.”

“What is it?”

Remus smirked, looking positively Slytherin. “Toddler Tonic.”

Harry blinked. “Come again?”

“A version of Wolfsbane which can be given to newborns through age thirteen,” Remus said, tears filling his eyes. “It’s a miracle.”

Harry sighed. “Although this is wonderful, it doesn’t assuage Severus of...”

“No, of course not,” Remus said, shaking his head. “Sleep on it.”

Harry nodded, knowing he would. As the days went by, Remus told Harry to go back to London and reach out to Severus. It took three days to persuade him, but Harry returned to London two days before his birthday. He got back to his empty flat, rolling his shoulders; Ron and Hermione had already gone, then. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry took a shower, fed Hedwig some owl treats, and knelt before the Floo.

“Fiole Bureau!” he called, tossing in the powder.

“Oh! Harry,” said Penelope on the other end.

“Hello, Penelope. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. And you?”

“All right,” Harry said with a shrug. “Is Severus around?”

“Master Snape is unavailable, I’m afraid,” Penelope said softly.

Harry sighed, visibly deflating. “Do you know where he is, what he’s doing, or where I could reach him?” he asked.

Penelope gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Was there anything else you needed, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “No. Thanks, Penelope. Have a good one,” he said, and cut the Floo Call connection.

Pushing himself up to his feet, Harry tried to focus on the never-ending pile of job applications, and trying to keep the tears out of his eyes, though not doing a very good job in either task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hope you liked her!


	8. Make a Wish

Harry dragged his hands down his face as he stood in the lukewarm shower; summer had truly come to London with a vengeance, and he was looking forward to going to the Burrow that evening. Despite Ron and Hermione’s trip with the Grangers, Harry was still being given a special dinner by Molly and Arthur. In Harry’s mind, it was just the ticket to keep his mind off of his non-communication with Severus, as well as his two best friends ditching him.

Harry went into his bedroom after his shower and selected a short-sleeved green button-down, dark trousers, and loafers for that evening. After trying and failing to tame his hair, he casted a Cleaning Charm upon his teeth and made his way towards the living room. Making sure to leave the window open so that Hedwig could go out for a hunt later, he bade his familiar farewell before he Apparated out of the living room of his flat.

Arriving upon the grounds of the Burrow with a crash, just between the orchard and Molly’s vegetable patch, Harry casted a quick _Scourgify_ upon himself, getting all the dirt residue off of him. Letting out a sigh at his inability to land gracefully, he trudged towards the door, and knocked upon it. Although the Weasleys insisted time and time again that Harry was a member of the family, he just didn’t feel comfortable waltzing into the house without at least one redhead by his side.

Moly herself opened the door and smiled warmly at her surrogate son, and embraced him as she always had done whenever they met. “Good to see you, dear,” she said warmly, guiding him into the house, where he could smell a variety of foods cooking. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked, brushing off his clothes and shutting th door behind him.

“Fine, really, Molly,” Harry assured her. “It’s nice to get out of the flat.”

Molly smiled indulgently at Harry and walked with him from the entryway and into the parlor. “I am so pleased you’re here at last, Harry,” she declared.

No sooner had she said those words than did Disillusionment Charms fall, or various people pop out from the mismatching living room furniture. Harry’s jaw dropped then at the collective sight before him and Molly. Standing at various points of the parlor were Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna, the twins with Alicia and Angelina, Bill and Fleur with Victoire and Dominique, Charlie, Remus and Tonks with Teddy and Baby Hope, Seamus, Dean and Ginny, and Severus, who was standing between Arthur and Steora.

“Surprise!” everyone shouted, save for Severus, whose velvet voice was much more subdued in the interim.

“What...?” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “What...?”

“Spain was a hoax, mate,” Ron said, walking towards Harry, with Hermione just behind him.

“You didn’t really think we’d miss your birthday, did you?” Hermione asked, her brown eyes filled with concerned. “We were just at Mum and Dad’s for a few days...”

“They were the ones going to Spain,” Ron said quickly.

“We just agreed to watch the house until their partners at the dentist office could take over on our behalf,” Hermione went on, before hugging Harry tightly to her. “It was all meant to be a surprise, and we couldn’t have pulled off any of it without Severus’s help...”

“I didn’t even know he _had_ a sister, mate,” Ron whispered, looking over his shoulder as Hermione let Harry go, and spotted Steora speaking to Tonks, who promptly handed Baby Hope over to her, while Severus rolled his eyes and muttered something about Steora not dropping the youngest Lupin child upon her head.

Harry was promptly passed around to all the guests, and was hugged by pretty much everyone in attendance, although he was saved from giving Ginny the same treatment, much to his relief. It was once the greetings were out of the way that Molly and Arthur, who had slipped out into the kitchen midway, had returned. They informed the guests that their dinner had been served and that it was upon a long table outside, beneath a tent.

Harry felt himself flush with delight as Severus pressed a hand to the small of his back and guided him outside. Harry raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of the tent, however. It was striped, with massive green lines, and thin silver lines between them.

“To match your eyes,” Severus whispered.

Harry arched an eyebrow at his lover. “And the silver?”

Severus smirked. “Perhaps I was optimistic that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Well, really, _Slytherin_ colors,” Ginny sneered as she walked behind them, on Dean’s arm, while Dean looked sufficiently put out.

“Gin, please, don’t do this,” he said softly. “Not here...”

Ginny murmured something further under her breath, but Harry was unable to catch it as Severus guided him beneath the tent and placed him at the seat of the guest of honor.

“No need for all this fuss,” he said softly.

Severus grinned down at him, and sat next to him. “Oh, I beg to differ.”

Harry shook his head. “We really do need to talk...”

“Yes, and we will,” Severus assured him, holding Harry’s hand beneath the table, “later. For right now, let us simply enjoy your birthday celebrations with your family.”

Harry gave Severus a small smile before he turned his attention to the spread of food laid out for all the guests. There were chicken and turkey pinwheel sandwiches; a spinach and watercress salad; fruit cocktails; egg salad; deviled and scotch eggs; pasties; individual meatballs; a platter with olives, cured meats, and sliced cheeses; crostini’s with heirloom tomatoes and sliced aubergine and mozzarella, all drizzled with basil and olive oil; pasta salad with sliced cucumber and feta cheese; chips of all assortments; poached salmon; a grilled rack of lamb; a roasted chicken; potatoes of all varieties; fresh loaves of bread and butter; a massive-looking quiche Lorraine with bacon that he was sure Hermione had made, and that Ron was currently eyeballing; and treacle tart. It was slightly overwhelming to Harry, but he permitted Severus to serve him something of everything, and had a feeling that his lover had a hand or two in planning the menu.

“How was your excursion into Godric’s Hollow?” Severus asked, cutting into his portion of lamb, once everyone else had been served, and were back to their own conversations. “Lupin, Tonks, and their children appear to be well.”

“It was fine, thank you,” Harry said softly, sipping at his ice-cold pumpkin juice. “I... Remus told me about what you’ve been doing for Hope.”

Severus hesitated for a moment in his chewing, before he continued doing so and swallowed the bite of lamb in his mouth, a mouth which had proved more than capable in doing such wicked, delicious things to the entirety of Harry’s body. “It is of no consequence.”

“On the contrary, I beg to differ,” Harry countered. “You’re potentially altering the lives of many newborns, babies, toddlers, and children who are suffering from this debilitating condition. And, perhaps, will even pave the way for their systems to purge it in early childhood. I would say that it’s one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard about,” said Harry quietly.

“How can you say that?” Severus whispered, lowering his cutlery onto his plate, his attention entirely upon Harry.

Harry blinked. “Say what?” he asked, perplexed.

“I was utterly reprehensible to you the last time we were together,” Severus responded, “and yet, you find no fault in me planning a surprise birthday celebration for you, with your family, after ignoring you for several days...”

Harry pursed his lips and lowered his eyes down to his plate; so much for waiting until later to have their conversation. “Well, one could easily say that I ignored you first,” he said softly, suddenly no longer interested in eating his birthday feast.

“It doesn’t matter who ignored whom first, Harry,” Severus said quietly. “I can understand if you needed some place after our last meeting. You’ve made it abundantly clear of your lack of intimate relationships, and I suppose I allow my past with experienced partners cloud the notion that that isn’t what you are. I must learn to separate the two of you entirely, in point of fact, for the foreseeable future.”

Harry blinked, looking up at the man. “What are you saying, Severus?”

“I am unclear of the meaning myself,” he replied, “but I know enough to understand this,” he continued, reaching out his hand toward Harry’s, and visibly relaxed when the latter took it. “I find that you are different than anyone I have ever met, Harry James Potter, and I should like to get to know you better.”

Harry slowly smiled at the older man. “Perhaps we may start over, Severus?”

Severus immediately returned the smile. “Yes, Harry. I think that is a wonderful idea.”

Harry moved to shake Severus’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Harry Potter. Today is my twenty-second birthday, and I just recently graduated from Flarmerth Academy of Wizardry. I believe you were the guest speaker at the commencement ceremony?”

Severus looked positively tickled at the introduction. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was,” he affirmed with a nod. “I’m Severus Snape, a potions master, that for some reason, the Wizarding World is convinced that I am great at what I do.”

“A potions master, you say?” Harry asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he leaned closer to the man. “What have you been brewing lately?”

“You surely don’t wish to spend your birthday discussing potions...”

“I do if you brewed them,” Harry responded with a smirk. “Besides, the Wizarding World is convinced of your greatness. They may have a hack like Rita Skeeter working for _The Daily Prophet_ , but that doesn’t mean that the entirety of the world itself can be wrong...”

Severus smiled. “Well, Harry, if you must know, I am currently working on an eradication potion to take care of the inoculation of Dragon Pox, meaning that this potion—which uses less ingredients than said inoculation, and is therefore less expensive—could potentially mean that people wouldn’t be infected by it at all.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I thought Dragon Pox had more than one strain.”

“It does, but the bacteria linked to the direct cause is all connected,” Severus explained. “This potion should prove that the witch or wizard drinker, in question, will become immune to the infection prompted by the aforementioned bacteria.”

“Fascinating,” Harry whispered. “Please, tell me more.”

“Perhaps I shall,” Severus said, “on the condition that you return with me to my home this evening, after the festivities. Orlee has missed you.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Just Orlee?”

Severus grinned. “Not just Orlee,” he allowed.

~*~

Harry felt himself flushing at the scrutiny his lover was giving him; he had hardly left Severus’s side the past several days, per the older man’s instructions and not-so-subtle demands. Orlee had been dispatched to go to his flat in London to obtain several changes of clothes on his behalf, as Severus was unwilling to be parted from him. Licking his bottom lip and sucking it into his mouth, he was vaguely aware of Severus growling on the other side of the room.

Harry looked up from his Quidditch magazine, and saw that Severus wasn’t even looking at one of the books Harry had permitted him to keep him his vault at Gringotts. “Is everything all right with you, Severus?” he wanted to know.

Severus swallowed. “I... I wanted to ask you how your job applications are coming along,” he said lamely.

Harry grinned, having a sinking feeling that his lover wasn’t being completely honest with him, but decided to let it slide for the moment. “Ah. Well, I sifted through some after my latest return from Godric’s Hollow. I’ve eliminated several—many people, it seems, want to capitalize on my fame for being the sole survivor of Riddle’s final murderous rampage.”

Severus wrinkled his nose. “How barbaric.”

“Funny, Hermione said the same thing,” he responded, settling back in his chair. “Was there something else upon your mind, Severus?” he asked.

Severus growled again, this time only just managing to suppress it. “Dinner,” he said softly, and Harry had to do his best to hold back a chuckle.

“We’ve just eaten lunch an hour ago...”

Severus gripped at the sides of the book, and Harry found himself relieved for Impenetrable Charms, knowing that, due to the age of the tome and the potion master’s strength, he could easily tear it apart. “You make me hungry.”

Harry felt his cock twitching from within the confines of his trousers; he had been at Severus’s home since the evening of his birthday party so, naturally, his nether regions, as well as his arse, were quite tender. “Do I?” he asked coyly.

Severus grimaced, and Harry wondered if the man would make good on his threat and brew them both an Extra-Strength Stamina Potion. “You must know that you look good enough to eat, Harry,” he said softly.

Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “Despite the tender loving care issued to me by Molly and the rest of the Weasleys, it was almost too little too late,” he responded. “Once Sirius was acquitted and Wormtail was found to have been the true secret keeper, I only had the Christmas holidays with him starting from fourth year. I had to return to my aunt and uncle’s house until the summer before his murder, when I was nearly sixteen, and it was only then that I got constant unconditional love when not at Hogwarts.”

“Other than the cupboard,” Severus said, and was visibly taken aback when Harry shook, “what else did they...?”

“They routinely starved me, and forced me to complete chores that I was ill-equipped to do,” he responded, lowering the mag and drawing his knees upwards and into his chest. “I was beaten until Sirius came back into my life, and I think they stopped because they were afraid of what a formerly convicted murderer could do to them, despite him being proved innocent and pardoned by the Wizengamot. I think they thought that people, not only Death Eaters, could potentially be watching the house.”

Severus lowered the ancient book completely then and set it upon the little side table, in between the wingback he currently occupied and the fireplace. “You do not discuss it much.”

Harry sighed. “No,” he agreed. “Molly and Arthur suggested a mind healer more than once, and Hermione even brought up seeing a Muggle therapist. Given that her parents have such a lucrative dental practice in Cumbria, it’s only natural that the Doctors Granger would know other kinds of doctors...”

“Have you gone?”

“Once to a mind healer, that first Christmas after Sirius died, and then to a Muggle therapist after I graduated Hogwarts,” Harry told him.

“But you did not continue?”

“No,” Harry said. “The mind healer got me caught up in flashbacks, and informed me that I have some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder, but then wanted to talk about Riddle all the time. It was not a good fit.”

“And the Muggle therapist?”

“Called me a bitch during a session on what was the anniversary of Sirius’s death,” Harry said quietly, clearly still torn up about the scenario. “I started crying, and the woman said that it wasn’t beneficial to the session, and made me leave the office. I had a contractual obligation to return another handful of times, but soon got out of it when Tonks managed to clandestinely _Obliviate_ me from her memories.”

“That is completely unprofessional,” Severus snapped, and Harry’s eyes locked with his. “I wish you would have sued her for malpractice.”

“Wouldn’t have done me any good, in the end, given that she could likely afford fancy barristers that could either get the charges dropped, or get me to settle,” said Harry morosely.

Severus shook his head. “Utterly reprehensible,” he said, pulling at his hair slightly. “But I am pleased that the Weasleys, Miss Granger, and the rest of your friends have been there for you. I spoke to Mr. Longbottom at the celebrations at the Burrow.”

Harry perked up at that, obviously pleased for the change in subject. “Did you discuss medicinal plants?” he asked eagerly.

“We did indeed,” Severus confirmed, returning Harry’s smile. “I took the liberty of giving him a list of books to read while he is Pomona’s apprentice. I believe she has it in mind to retire at the end of it, and the position will likely go to him.”

“Neville will be so pleased if that happens,” Harry told Severus. “All he’s ever wanted is an existence where he can be around plants.”

Severus smiled softly then. “As was I at such an age when it came to potions,” he mused. “It was beakers of potions and tomes of Dark Arts which became my friends during my fifth-year at Hogwarts, when things would change forever...”

“What things?” Harry asked.

“Your mother and I lived near one another as children,” Severus explained. “I lived in Spinner’s End, while she lived in the suburbs nearby with your aunt and grandparents. Mother and Tobias did not move into the Prince Estate until after my commencement from Hogwarts.”

“So, you were friends with my mother, then?”

Severus nodded. “I was, yes. I taught her about the Wizarding World myself, and we would practice magic together. We had a brief falling out a few months before school began, however, when Petunia happened upon us practicing, and frightened me.”

“What happened?”

“I accidentally dropped a tree limb upon her,” Severus said softly, clearly remorseful. “In my bravado, Petunia convinced Lily that my actions were deliberate. Lily barely spoke to me for the rest of the summer, and only did so again when your grandparents asked my mother to escort us both to Diagon Alley together for our school things, as they didn’t know anyone else, save for Professor McGonagall, and she was quite busy even then, as I’m sure you know.”

Harry nodded. “I do, yes.”

“Lily and I were on speaking terms again by the end of the afternoon, and by the time we got to Platform 9¾ on the first of September, we were the best of friends once more.” Severus sighed then as the memories appeared to wash over him. “You know, of course, that since I was sorted into Slytherin and your mother into Gryffindor, that she was year mates, as well as housemates, with your father, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin.”

“I knew that,” Harry told him.

“They took an immediate dislike to me,” Severus told Harry. “I suppose my rude manner, as it was seen then, and not the defensive one that I always felt it to be, didn’t help matters. Lily caught your father’s attention, but kept putting him off as we grew older; I believed it had everything to do with his treatment of me. He kept making snide remarks about the sorry state of my robes, as well as my apparent obsession with the Dark Arts... He even got it into his head that I was in love with your mother.”

Harry sat up straight then. “You weren’t, were you?” he asked.

Severus gave Harry a sad smile. “I will always love your mother, Harry, but never was I in love with her. I’ve told you more than once that I am gay, and that, while I have found women attractive, I have never been attracted to them.”

Harry gave a small nod and sat back. “Sorry.”

“No matter,” Severus responded. “In fifth-year, as previously stated, things changed. I was on the school grounds, making some notes in my potions textbook, and mentally calling the author a dunderhead, when I saw the Marauders, your father and his friends, making their way towards me. I knew it was to be business as usual, but your father cast _Expelliarmus_ on me before I could even properly defend myself.”

“Severus...”

“I shouted at them, and moved to retrieve my wand as a crowd began to gather, and, once my back was turned, your father shouted, ‘Who wants to see me take Snivellus’s trousers off’? and all I could think of, in that moment, was, ‘Why’?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why,” Severus said, his eyes filled with sadness, although his voice was bitter. “I just couldn’t for the life of me even consider why your father would stoop so low... The grass was tall and high, and I couldn’t find my wand to defend myself. Next thing I knew, I was brought up into the air via _Levicorpus_ , and, amid my protests, some of your father’s other friends were chanting for my trousers to come off.”

“Merlin,” Harry whispered.

“James got them off,” Severus continued, although his lips and mouth struggled to form the words as his eyes were awash with memories. “I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. As I was floating there, looking down at all the students subjected to my humiliation, not one person stood up for me, at first. Not even Lupin, and he was a prefect...”

“At first?” Harry asked, latching onto those words.

“It was your mother who spoke up,” Severus told him. “She came charging into our midst; I remember she was studying for an astronomy exam, and must have seen us from the tower. I remember her eyes—green, like yours—flashing with anger, her copper hair tumbling behind her as she ran towards us. She berated your father, and everyone else... ‘And you call yourselves Gryffindors!’, I remember her sneering. She made James bring me down, and grabbed for my trousers before someone could potentially vanish them. I took them and grabbed up my book and ran from that place, Lily at my heels...”

Harry got to his feet then, seeing how distressed his lover was, and crossed the room towards the man, and straddled his lap. “Tell me,” he whispered, locking his arms around his neck.

“She was begging me to say something,” said Severus softly. “Something, anything... I told her to leave me be. In my humiliation and devastation, all I wanted to do was hide, knowing full well that James and all his followers would go unpunished, as they always had...”

Harry smoothed Severus’s brow. “What happened?”

“Lily was persistent, which is usually an excellent quality, but not in this... I begged her to leave me, but she refused time and time again. I lashed out, and, regretting it as soon as the word passed my lips, called her a Mudblood.”

Harry’s heart clenched then. “Oh, Severus,” he whispered.

“I apologized immediately,” Severus said quickly, “but Lily didn’t want to hear it... James had been stirring up rumors that I was wanting to join the Death Eaters officially, so she told me to go to them for comfort. I ran after her, but she refused to look back, let alone even speak to me again, so it was all for naught... I knocked on the Gryffindor common room portrait for weeks, but she initially refused to see me. Finally, when she did, she informed me that she was withdrawing her friendship, and that no apology from me would change anything. I regretted it wholeheartedly...”

“When was this?”

“October,” Severus told him. “She only spoke to me just before we left for the Christmas holidays, and then I was alone at Spinner’s End.”

Harry sighed. “Did this have anything to do with you becoming...intimate with Professor Slughorn?” he asked tentatively.

“Likely,” Severus allowed. “I was so desperately alone, wanting some scrap of positive attention, that I took what was on offer. My mother had been trying for years to convince Tobias to have another child with her, so the pair of them virtually ignored me. It was hardly an existence, but truly one which made me into the man I am today.”

“You speak as though you are a shadow, Severus,” Harry mused.

Severus sighed. “Sometimes, I do feel that way, Harry.”

“Hey,” Harry said quietly, tilting the older man’s chin up and gently pressing his lips to his. He stared openly down at him for a moment, and then Severus closed the distance between them and kissed him back, hungrily. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured him.

“You will one day change your mind...”

Harry pulled back slightly then. “How do you figure?”

Severus smiled sadly. “There are things you may want, in future, which I will be unable, or unwilling, to give you,” he said simply.

Harry gently caressed Severus’s face. “Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it, all right?” he asked, and pressed his lips to Severus’s once more.

~*~

Harry muttered lowly to himself as he put on the simple linen dress robes; it had been nine days since he had had the heart-to-heart conversation with Severus, and he found that the enormity of it all frightened him just a bit. He had hardly left the man in the interim, but had gone back to his flat for two days while his lover worked on his potion for Dragon Pox eradication. Shaking the thought from his mind, he looked up as Severus stepped into the master bedroom, he smiled at the man, and Severus returned it.

“You don’t have to come, you know.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you wanted me there.”

“I did... I do,” said Harry quickly. “But Ginny’s terribly unpredictable at the best of times, and ‘Mione says that her and Dean have been fighting nonstop for weeks.”

“Perhaps they will simmer down just long enough for us to cut the cake,” Severus said as he approached Harry, kissing him lightly upon the lips. “After all, it isn’t every day that a young woman turns twenty-one.”

Harry smirked. “Many people are born on the same day, Severus.”

Severus reached behind him and smacked his arse lightly, before cupping it possessively. “One more smart arse crack like that, Mr. Potter, and it will be on your knees with my tongue within you while you beg for release.”

“Promises, promises,” Harry murmured, doing his best to will his erection away as the pair of them meandered out of the bedroom and down the stairs. They walked into the parlor and towards the Floo, which Severus enlarged as usual and they called out for the Burrow together, before being spat out in the parlor at the Weasley home.

“Harry, Severus!” Molly said, bustling towards them and tutting at the state of their robes. “Oh, dearie me,” she said quietly, and brushed off the soot. “I suppose you polish up sufficient. Now, then, everyone’s gathering in the garden before dinner. Feel free to head out there and help yourself to a cool drink,” she said, smiling at them both before she hurried back to the kitchen, where Harry guessed she was putting the finishing touches on the meal.

Harry felt relieved as Severus took his arm in his, before they ventured out into the expansive back garden of the Burrow. The twins, Alicia, Angelina, Charlie, Ron, and Ginny were all circling in th air, while Arthur and Bill refereed what appeared to be an impromptu Quidditch match. Hermione and Fleur sat down below, watching, while Fleur held Victoire, and Hermione Dominique, as they whispered above Fleur’s swollen belly. As Harry and Severus approached, Harry was slightly taken aback by the notion that Dean was not in attendance, and wondering if he was working, or had begged off the evening.

“Harry!” Hermione cried out once she’d spotted him, and waved, her arms full of Dominique, who, along with Victoire, bounced out of both hers and Fleur’s arms and dashed towards them, with Harry managing to catch them both up into his arms.

“Hello, girls,” Harry said, kissing their foreheads.

“Good evening, ladies,” Severus said, prompting them both to giggle.

The Quidditch match ended with a draw, just as Molly stepped out into the garden and called everyone in for dinner. Dinner was a pleasant affair, although Harry noted that Ginny was surprisingly quiet, only speaking when spoken to directly. She didn’t look sad or upset, but looked rather contemplative, much like the Ginny he had remembered from childhood. It also pleased Harry that, although he didn’t engage Ginny directly, when he responded to her statement about how exhausting practice had been for her lately, she gave him a kind smile, and he was relieved to see no unorthodox feelings from within her eyes.

“I’ll clear up, Molly,” Harry offered, once the ending of dinner arrived, and Molly had offered drinks and pudding in the parlor for everyone.

“Oh, Harry dear, I can’t let you do that...”

“Actually, you can,” Harry said, already moving to banish the plates and things into the kitchen just beyond. “Really makes me feel like a proper member of the family... Please. I would really like to do this.”

Molly smiled. “Very well, dear. Go on ahead.”

Harry returned the smile and made his way into the kitchen, using the enchanted scrubber to polish all the dishes, utensils, and other things that were used to make Ginny’s birthday dinner possible. As he scrubbed, he became surrounded by the calming scent of soap bubbles, as well as the calming sensation of the water hitting his hands as he cleaned, and felt altogether at peace in that moment. He had never felt such a calmness when he had done the dishes whilst living under virtual house arrest at the Dursleys, and it was likely because he was forced into slavery while living under their roof, never knowing proper happiness until he was much older, when he could truly understand just how precious it all was...

“Harry?” came a soft voice from behind him, just as he finished.

Harry turned around then, and spotted Ginny standing upon the threshold of the kitchen. “Sorry, am I in your way?” he asked, moving slightly.

Ginny smiled and shook her head. “No, Harry, don’t worry, I...” She bit her lip. “Look, I know I’ve been a right pain for... Well, for years really,” she said, hunching her shoulders.

“Ginny, I think being a pain once in a while is all part of growing up...”

“That’s just it, Harry,” Ginny responded, pressing on as she walked further into the kitchen, and hopped up onto one of the counters. “I couldn’t seem to grow out of it, due to my resentment that we were never going to be together.”

Harry sighed. “I know, Ginny. But I can’t apologize for who I am, or for leading you on. For one thing, I can’t change who I am, and for another...”

“I know you never led me on, Harry,” Ginny told him, smiling tentatively. “I suppose I just wanted to be loved, you know?”

“What about Dean?”

“Dean?” Ginny asked, shaking her head. “I put him through hell, and I’ll be lucky if he ever forgives me, or talks to me again... He’s where he belongs. He’s with Seamus now, and I’m truly happy for them, but...”

“But what, Ginny?”

Ginny bit her lip, hard, as her entire face crumpled. “Oh, Merlin, I’ve been terrible,” she said, the tears falling down her face, her shoulders trembling as she sobbed.

“Ginny? Ginny, what’s wrong?” Harry asked. “Clearly, you’re overworked, and you’re stressed, and I’m sure Dean will come around...”

“Harry, I was raped,” Ginny said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Merlin. Please tell me it wasn’t...”

“It was Kikis Trecus,” she whispered. “He’s the correspondent for _The Daily Prophet_ who covers all the Quidditch matches leading up to the Quidditch World Cup...”

Harry crossed the room and hugged her. “Merlin, Ginny. What happened?”

“He... He wanted to do a photo spread sheet for the latest issue, and get an interview with each member of the Harpies,” Ginny said. “Gwenog was all for it, and so she set it up. Someone came in and took pictures of all of us together, an then some solo shots were snapped. He... He made me do things, and then he... Oh, gods,” she said, crumpling completely in Harry’s arms then as she sobbed on his shoulder.

“Did you report him?” Harry asked.

“Yes. And I’ve told Mum and Dad, and Hermine, but they all agreed to wait to tell everyone else until after my birthday. I just... I just wanted... I just wanted a fun night,” she whispered.

“Does Gwenog know?”

Ginny swallowed, slowly pulling herself back from Harry then, visibly trembling. “She does, and I’ve been placed on leave. I won’t be playing next game, or likely the one after...”

“Ginny, that’s mad!”

“I don’t even know if I want to do it anymore, you know?” she whispered. “And, I know I shouldn’t say so, let alone believe it, but it feels as if Trecus has taken it away from me, you know? My love of the game, playing it...”

“Don’t let him do that to you, Ginny,” Harry told her. “Don’t let him take it from you. Rise above from this. You’re a survivor, not a victim. Don’t force yourself back into it, either, especially if it’s not really what you want to do anymore. Take this time to fully consider what you want to do.”

Ginny sighed. “I will try...”

“Will he appear before the Wizengamot?”

“There is enough evidence to say so,” she whispered. “Hermione agreed to speak to Amelia Bones on my behalf, to find me a decent barrister...”

“If money is an issue, please let me help,” Harry said quickly. “You’ll want the best representation there is. And if you need expert witnesses, psychiatrists, anything, let me know, Ginny, and I’ll help you...”

“He’ll likely settle out of court,” Ginny said softly.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean he’ll likely take the sentence handed down to him, since there’s irrefutable evidence of what he’s done to me.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Ginny?”

“Dean and I were so distant with one another these last several weeks, so it couldn’t be his,” she said, tears continuing to fall from her eyes as she placed a hand to her belly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Harry...”

Without hesitation, Harry drew her into his arms. “We’ll figure it out, Ginny,” he assured her gently. “I’ll be there for you, I promise.” It was the step in the kitchen doorway that alerted Harry of someone’s presence, and he and Ginny broke apart. “Severus...” He whispered, and hated that his tone shook.

Severus looked between them before he walked out of the house.

“Severus!” Harry shouted.

“Go, Harry. Go tell him,” Ginny urged. “I’ll be all right.”

Harry ran out into the summer twilight without a backward glance at Ginny, and saw the man standing beside the lake, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat, recalling that he himself had stood there, just weeks previously, at a literal crossroads. Swallowing, Harry approached, and stood beside his lover, heart thrumming in his breast. “Please,” he whispered, his tone begging, “let me explain what you saw in there, Severus.”

“I know I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am,” Severus admitted, staring out at the surface of the lake, uncertainty spread across his face.

“Then allow me to put your mind at ease,” Harry whispered. “I am only sharing this information with you because Ginny gave me leave to do so.”

“Did Miss Weasley make her latest play for you tonight?” Severus asked bitterly.

“Far from it,” Harry responded. “Yes, she’s ended things with Dean, who is now with Seamus, but that’s not the crux of the matter here.”

“Then what is?” Severus demanded, obviously hanging on by a thread.

“Severus, Ginny was raped,” Harry burst out then, and Severus immediately turned to look down at his lover, his face appalled.

“Was it Mr. Thomas...?”

“No, of course not. It was Kikis Trecus,” Harry told him. “He raped her during an interview, and now Ginny’s pregnant,” he said softly.

Severus dragged a hand down his face. “Merlin...”

“I was merely offering Ginny support, in whatever she may need, before she ultimately faces the Wizengamot, if it comes to that,” Harry said softly.

“Naturally, you are unfailingly kind,” Severus responded, and looked pained. “After everything, you find it in your heart to forgive.”

“Trecus has been in his position for a long time,” Harry said softly. “Who knows how long this was going on, or how many others he may have hurt?”

Severus gave a shallow nod. “It’s possible. Criminals frequently have a modus operandi, so it isn’t far fetched that Miss Weasley would be one of many.”

Harry tentatively steppe forward then, and was flooded with a sudden sense of relief as Severus yanked him into his arms. “You need to understand something, Severus...”

“Yes?”

Harry listened to the steady rhythm of Severus’s heartbeat for a moment, before he slowly raised his eyes upwards to meet his lover’s onyx ones. “I told you that I’m not going anywhere. I need you to know that I meant it.”

“Harry...”

“No, please listen,” Harry said quickly. “I realized a long time ago that, although it would be easier in every way if I cared for Ginny in a romantic sense. I couldn’t do that, though, because, like Hermione, Ginny is like my sister. While I reckon Hermione feels the same way about me, I think it took Ginny a bit longer to come around. I just hope that you can see that, because I want you to trust that, as of this moment, I’m with you.”

Severus looked truly overwhelmed then, and he slowly bent his head down and kissed Harry with such a passion that it nearly made Harry swoon. “And I’m with you,” Severus responded, and drew Harry deeper into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's experience with a Muggle therapist happened to me in real life. It was a devastating situation, and I thought it fit within Harry's narrative here.


	9. Crooked as a Barrel of Fish Hooks

“What are your weekend plans?” Severus asked, as the pair of them had brunch on Monday morning, with Orlee flitting back and forth from the kitchen.

“Nothing, as of yet,” Harry responded, popping a bit of spinach and gruyere frittata into his mouth, which was Orlee’s specialty.

The older man inclined his head at his young lover’s response. “The Summer’s End Potions Guild Soiree is on Friday evening, and I would very much appreciate it if you attended the celebrations with me,” Severus told him quietly.

“The Summer’s End Potions Guild Soiree?!” Hermione squealed, once Harry had returned to the flat later that afternoon.

Ron shook his head in awe. “Merlin, Harry. Even I barely scraped by in potions, and I know their parties are always legendary.”

Harry blinked. “How do you know that, Ron?”

“Angelina got the best marks in potions in her year,” Ron explained, “as she’s a healer. She and George have been to several Potions Guild related events.”

“All the festivities around the Potions Guild are very special to their members, and only a select few are truly allowed to be there,” Hermione continued, sighing wistfully. “If Severus invited you to this event, Harry, you must mean a lot to him.”

Harry crossed his arms. “And what do you know about it, then?”

“I know that they’re held in the most senior members’ estates in the country,” Hermione replied, not at all ruffled at Harry’s questioning. “As a matter of fact, Amelia informed me, whilst we were in one of our preliminary meetings before my apprenticeship is due to begin, that this year’s guild is to be held at Moonshine Manor.”

Harry made a face. “Moonshine Manor?”

Ron shorted. “Mad name...”

Hermione promptly swatted them both. “It belongs to the Moonshine family who, I’ll have you know, have potioneers dating back centuries. Lord Regulus Moonshine is to be the gracious host this year at his family home, alongside his wife, Lady Proserpine.”

“Is she a potioneer, too?” Harry asked, rubbing his ribcage.

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Yes. She’s the potions master for Beauxbatons, I’ll have you know, Harry. I’m sure Fleur can take you through her list of many accomplishments, as she’s held the position for close to twenty years.”

“Maybe one of the guests will know everything about Quidditch, mate,” Ron said quickly, obviously wanting to make Harry feel better.

Harry sighed. “Ron, even _I_ don’t know everything about it.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Besides, Harry should be brushing up on his potions research, if he’s to be doing any studying before the soiree.”

“Not that you need it, mate,” Ron said, grinning. “Merlin knows that it was Defense Against the Dark Arts, _and_ potions that you routinely beat out Hermione marks-wise.”

Hermione threw her hands up into the air then. “I give up!” she cried out, smacking momentarily into Ron as she dashed towards the Floo, and called out for her own flat, before the flames promptly swallowed her up.

~*~

Harry wetted his lips as he Floo’d into Severus’s cottage; they’d arranged to meet there, and would Apparate together to Moonshine Manor. As he Floo’d into the parlor, he was greeted by Orlee, who informed him that Severus was just finishing getting ready, and would be downstairs shortly. Politely declining food or drink, Harry meandered around the room once the house-elf had left him, and inspected the spines of the books on the built-in ebony shelves, which took up much of the room.

“Pawing through my books, are we, Harry?” Severus asked as he came down the staircase, his midnight blue dress robes suiting him perfectly. “Perhaps we need to have a discussion on personal belongings and potentially dark artifacts...”

Harry turned around slowly then, the dark velvet allure of Severus’s voice never lost upon him, and gave the man a haughty smirk, especially when the latter’s eyes widened at how impeccably he was dressed that evening. “May I remind you that you yourself were pawing through _my_ books in my Gringotts vault, before I passed them into your keeping?”

Severus arched an eyebrow as he stepped down the final stairs and moved to stand before Harry, a look of triumph in his eyes. “Indeed,” he allowed.

“I like this color on you,” Harry remarked softly, reaching out to caress the expensive spun silk of the robes of his older lover. “Looks magnificent with your coloring.”

“My thanks,” Severus said softly, pink flowing onto his typically pale cheeks, for the man was clearly not used to such compliments being so genuine. “I rather like your robes as well.”

“Hermione’s idea,” he responded, looking down at the mossy-green robes she had seen when the pair of them had stepped into Madam Malkin’s earlier in the week. “She also informed me of our destination, as well as our hosts’ names and careers.”

Severus permitted a small smile to encroach upon his mouth. “Did she? Rather considerate of her,” he said with a nod. “Is she expecting a thorough telling of the evening, then?”

“Naturally,” Harry told him. “I’m sure that the branch of the Ministry of Magic involving Wizarding Law have their own celebrations throughout the year, but Hermione seems to think that potions outranks many of the other branches.”

“Likely due to the oldness of the art,” Severus told him. “We are forever thinking of ways as a whole to better wizarding society, mostly medically, in order to preserve our way of life. While I stand by the notion that preservation is indeed important, we must remember that each potions master or potioneer goes through a number of trials throughout their process and, therefore, every step of the way must be celebrated appropriately.”

“That’s a beautiful sentiment,” Harry uttered softly.

“Yes,” Severus agreed, “beautiful.”

Harry stood on his toes as the man dipped his head, capturing his lips effortlessly, while Harry wrapped his arms around his neck. The man’s questing tongue along the seam of his lips caused his toes to curl, and Harry readily succumbed to Severus’s oral demands. Tangling his fingers in Severus’s raven locks, Harry’s heart hammered in his chest as Severus yanked him closer, pulling his lengthwise along his hard, muscled body.

Slowly, Severus released Harry’s lips, and pressed his own onto Harry’s forehead. “If we had time, I would take you, hard, up against this very wall.”

Harry groaned at the insinuation, mentally urging his cock to stop hardening at the potion master’s implications and potential future plans for him. “Don’t think the books or dark artifacts would appreciate tumbling to the floor much...”

Severus chuckled, his breath hot upon Harry’s skin. “Yes, I think you’re correct,” he agreed. “No matter; we can discuss the matter at length later.”

Harry nodded, reluctantly untangling his fingers from Severus’s hair, and his arms unwound themselves from the man’s neck. “Onward to Moonshine Manor, then?”

Severus affirmed Harry’s question with a nod of his own, guiding him towards the double French doors off the parlor, and led him outside into the mid-August twilight. “And to Lord Regulus and Lady Proserpine,” he agreed, before wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist, and Apparating the pair of them out of there.

Harry, who had hidden his face in Severus’s shoulder to prevent his nausea from turning into full-fledged sicking up, slowly raised his head when his feet landed upon solid ground once more, this time onto a stone pathway. As he gazed through the pink and purpling clouds with the sun barely managing to seep through, he caught his first glimpse of Moonshine Manor. Knowing now that it was located in Somerset, he took in the ancestral family home of the Moonshine family for the first time.

Hermione had been quick to inform him that it was a Grade II listed country house, and, from what little Harry had remembered about architecture, the description seemed to be correct. It was amazing to see eight impressive-looking chimneys from where he stood with Severus upon the main walkway, along with dozens upon dozens of windows. The estate itself was two stories, and boasted an attic space as well, with ivy growing intermittently around the main door, which Severus and Harry were currently approaching. It boasted expansive grounds and a massive pond around the side, which Harry could just make out in the semi-darkness.

“It is called Moonshine Manor because Lord Regulus’s thrice great-grandfather, Lord Roderick, noticed that the pond there would reflect upon the walls of any house built upon this plot of land,” Severus explained, as they walked leisurely up the path. “He had the manor built for his wife-to-be, the future Lady Lucia.”

“Why do those names sound so familiar?” Harry asked.

Severus smiled. “Likely because of History of Magic. You see, Miss Lucia Stanhope, as she was then known, spurned her former fiancé, Lord Alfonso Crane, in favor of Lord Roderick, as it was a true love match. Lord Crane attempted to get The Wizarding Marriage & Betrothals Act of 1772, and current Minister for Magic Maximilian Crowdy, to recognize that Lucia had not been of sound mind when she broke the betrothal.”

Harry smirked. “I’ll wager a guess that she was.”

“She was indeed; at least, that’s what the Wizengamot ruled, and Lord Roderick Moonshine and Miss Lucia Stanhope were wed on their intended day. After a lavish honeymoon tour of Paris and Spain, the pair set up house here, with Lucia already expecting their first child. Their son, Remington, was born, healthy and happy after nine months. Six weeks after his birth, Lucia left the manor for the first time, to have tea with her two dearest friends, Miss Alice Cross and Dame Sarah Larch. However, she was stopped along the way, and was stabbed by Alfonso, who promptly stabbed himself in the wake of committing the murder. There was nothing any healers could so, and, even though he himself had a young son to care for, Roderick was so filled with grief that he took his own life via a poison he had concocted. Remington, when he grew up and married his own wife, Lady Tessa, refused to allow himself, his wife, or any children they had practice potions. However, as he lay dying, his son and heir, Regulus, surrounded by his mother and three sisters, Tamzin, Timber, and Therese, successfully brewed a Draught of Peace, which permitted his father comfort in his final moments, thus paving the way for him to have his blessing to become a potions master himself.”

“Merlin,” Harry breathed. “Talk about a complex family history.”

Severus chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so. Mother knew Lord Remington at Hogwarts, so she was naturally a bit apprehensive when I expressed an interest in potions myself.”

Harry squeezed Severus’s hand. “Do you ever regret it?”

“My career-choice?” the man asked. “Never. I’ll admit that sometimes my experiments go wrong, and research can prove frustrating if you can’t pinpoint what you’re looking for. It is, however, more often than not, rewarding, and even a blessing.”

Harry wanted to say more, but the pair of them were suddenly interrupted by the door to Moonshine Manor opening, and a house-elf with a frayed top hat and pristine uniform stood in the doorway. “Good evening,” said Harry formally.

The elf bowed to them both, his ears nearly touching the stone of the threshold beneath him. “I is Tippy, sirs,” he said, still bowing. “Tippy is to invite Master Snape and his guest in for the evening ahead. Tippy is to tell Master Snape and his guest to go directly to the main parlor,” he went on, standing back so that Harry and Severus could enter, and snapped his fingers, which caused their robes to fluff themselves and appear presentable, “to indulge in cocktails and hors d’oeuvres with the rest of the esteemed guests.”

“Thank you, Tippy,” Severus responded, taking Harry formally by the arm and leading him down the long corridor, which featured moving portraits of past members of the Moonshine family, who all whispered eagerly at their arrival. Severus squeezed Harry’s arm briefly as the beautifully carved double doors at the end of the corridor opened for them, and the conversations momentarily went silent at their arrival. Without missing a beat, Severus inclined his head, and Harry watched as a handsome man, who had a goddess of a woman on his arm, stepped towards them, and Harry knew that these had to be their hosts.

“Severus,” said Regulus Moonshine warmly, clasping Severus’s free hand, while his wife smiled warmly in Harry’s direction, waiting to be introduced. “How are you this evening?”

“Very well, thank you, Regulus,” Severus responded. “And Proserpine, you are looking as lovely as always. The French mountain air obviously agrees with you.”

“Only because of your Rose Pomade, Severus,” Proserpine said, her deep blue eyes shining with a fair amount of gratitude. “I would never have survived without it...” She turned back to Harry then and continued smiling at him. “But I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, holding out her manicured hand towards him, and although the grip was strong, Harry noted just how soft Proserpine Moonshine’s hands truly were. “Proserpine Moonshine. And who might you be, my dear?” she asked.

Harry regarded the chestnut-haired beauty before him, and smiled readily back at her. “My name is Harry Potter, and the pleasure is mine, Lady Moonshine,” he said formally.

“None of that, dear Harry. It is Proserpine, of course,” Proserpine said with a twitter, regarding her blond husband for a moment, and kissing him upon the cheek. “Severus, might I introduce your companion to some of the other guests?” she asked sweetly.

Severus smiled. “Of course, Proserpine, I would indeed appreciate it, if Harry doesn’t mind being parted from me...”

Harry bit his tongue, not wanting to be seeing as some needy damsel. “No, of course I don’t mind, Severus,” he responded readily.

“Think you can spare me, darling?” Proserpine asked her husband.

“Of course, love,” Regulus told his wife, kissing her on the lips, looking down at her with love, before he released her arm.

Proserpine smiled as Harry offered her his arm, and they slowly walked away from Severus and her husband respectively. “Severus has never brought anyone with him, save for his assistant on occasion, Miss Penelope Clearwater, but something tells me that there was nothing so intimate about their relationship.”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he agreed, “there wasn’t.”

“Our children are not here this evening,” Proserpine said, and Harry detected slight sadness in her voice, leading him to believe that she truly loved them. “Our eldest, Paloma, is getting her Potions Mastery in Scandinavia at the moment; she’s due home for Christmas. As for our three sons, Theo, Tristan, and Thatcher are in their final year at Beauxbatons.”

“You did not send them to Hogwarts?”

“I attended Beauxbatons,” Proserpine explained patiently, “and I gained my own mastery here in England, which is how I met Regulus, as we were studying under the same master. Regulus attended Hogwarts, of course, as did Paloma, but the boys wanted to attend Beauxbatons, as they always loved visiting their grandparents there for the summers. Regulus, pleased that his only potions-inclined child had attended Hogwarts, was more than pleased to allow our three sons to go to Beauxbatons.”

“What are they interested in?” Harry asked.

“Theo is for the ministry,” Proserpine told him, “and wishes to be an Auror. Tristan wants to establish his own newspaper, and is due to begin an apprenticeship with Xenophilius Lovegood of _The Quibbler_ after his commencement.”

Harry smiled at that. “I attended Hogwarts with his daughter, Luna. She’s a year behind me, and a wonderful friend. I’m quite sure that Tristan will learn a lot from Xenophilius.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Proserpine said, sighing with relief. “As for Thatcher, he wants to teach, and is being groomed to take over the charms position at Beauxbatons.”

Through the crowd, Harry was slightly surprised to see Professor Sprout, who was standing with Neville an Luna, who were all conversing with an elderly man with a curly, white beard which was considerably shorter than Dumbledore’s. “I didn’t know Herbologists were going to be here,” Harry remarked quietly.

Proserpine smiled indulgently at Harry. “They are beneficial to potioneers and masters, Harry, and all their work is necessary for potion preparation and research. They aren’t just welcomed here, they are encouraged to attend.” She followed Harry’s gaze and nodded to herself. “I take it that Pomona was your instructor while at Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, and she was wonderful,” he told the hostess with a smile. “Her companions are Neville Longbottom, her apprentice, and Luna Lovegood, his fiancée.”

“Miss Lovegood?” Proserpine asked, clearly impressed. “Perhaps I can speak to her about her father and the rules and regulations about _The Quibbler_.”

“Luna’s writing for her father in her spare time, and has been for years,” Harry told her. “I’m sure she’d love to tell you.” He smiled to himself as Professor Sprout laughed at something the mysterious bearded man said. “Can you tell me who they’re speaking to?”

“That would be Libatius Borage, author of _Advanced Potion Making_ , among many other achievements in the potion world,” Proserpine said, her tone almost reverent. “He’s due to celebrate his one-hundredth birthday next year, quite a feat in the Wizarding World. In fact, I’d say, after a witch or wizard’s seventeenth birthday, it is the next most important birthday in any magical folks’ life.” She turned to Harry and smiled at him. “I could introduce you to him, if you like, Harry,” she offered, although there was no pressure in her voice, one way or the other. “I know that Libatius attended Castelobruxo, but he has been indispensable in comparing notes with Regulus and I.”

Harry bit his lip, unknowing what he could possibly say to the man, other than the fact that he had used his textbook in his sixth and seventh-year in potions. However, with Neville and Luna, as well as Professor Sprout, there was a buffer, he thought he should try. “That would be lovely, Proserpine, thank you,” he responded.

Proserpine smiled at him and led him over to the foursome gathered beside the black marble fireplace and mantle. “Good evening, Libatius, Pomona,” she said eloquently, before she turned to Neville and Luna.

“Evening, Proserpine,” Libatius said, his South American accent lovely.

“Always lovely to see you, Proserpine,” Professor Sprout said, smiling.

Proserpine nodded to them both in further greeting before turning to the younger members of the foursome before them. “Mr. Longbottom, Miss Lovegood, it is a pleasure to meet you both,” she went on, and it was here that Harry detected a slight Parisian accent from the hostess of the celebration for the first time.

“Likewise, Lady Moonshine,” Neville said, bowing his head ever so slightly, his free hand over his heart, making contact with his brown silk dress robes. “May I formally introduce my fiancée, Miss Luna Lovegood?”

Luna, who was resplendent in a lilac-colored robe with a knee-length pink cocktail dress beneath it, curtsied to Proserpine without hesitation. “My Neville always speaks about you and Lord Moonshine with such fondness, Lady Moonshine,” she said softly.

“That is always so lovely to hear,” Proserpine said with a smile. “The pair of you, plus Pomona, all know my new friend, Harry Potter. Libatius,” she said, and turned towards the man who was still unfamiliar with Harry, “allow me to introduce Harry Potter. He is Severus’s companion for the evening,” she went on.

Master Libatius Borage inclined his head in curiosity, while Harry gnashed his teeth together momentarily before permitting himself to smile; he was hardly just Severus’s companion _for the evening_... “It is a delight to meet you, Mr. Potter,” Libatius was saying, and extended a withered-looking hand to Harry, who took it, and was surprised at the firmness of the grasp.

“Likewise, Master Borage,” Harry responded, wondering if this potions master had as intimate a relationship with Severus as Professor Slughorn had.

“Lovely, you’ve met,” Proserpine said, clasping your hands. “Forgive me, I must check that the elves have everything they need in the kitchens,” she said.

“Allow me to assist you,” Pomona said with a smile, and the pair of witches slipped through the crowd, and disappeared completely.

“Severus seems to keep to himself, as far as I’ve noticed,” the man said, catching Harry’s attention again as he let his hand go and scratching slightly at his beard, as if in thought, but it made Harry think that the man had a billywig or glumbumble in his facial hair. “You must be very important to him if he’s brought you to this celebration as his guest.”

“Harry has many loyal people in his life,” Luna said softly, and the elderly potions master turned to regard Luna, who looked downright ethereal rather than just sounding like it as she typically did. “He’s charmed the socks off many extraordinary wizards. In fact, our former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer of our time, was quite impressed with him. He had the highest defense scores in Hogwarts history since 1979.”

“1979?” Harry breathed, turning to regard Luna, his green eyes wide.

“Oh, yes,” Luna said, leaning her head down upon Neville’s shoulder, and smiling at him. “The last person to score so high on their defense NEWTs was Master Snape.”

“Ah, so you favor close combat and dueling, then?” asked Master Borage.

“Just because I am proficient doesn’t mean I enjoy it, sir,” Harry said softly.

“But Harry, you were brilliant!” Neville spoke up, his dark eyes shining. “Master Borage, he managed to produce a Patronus in third-year, two years before the rest of us!”

Harry flushed. “Yes, well, you know as well as I do how much better in herbology you were than I could ever hope to be, Neville,” he said quickly.

“So you claim to be proficient at defense,” Master Borage observed with a nod. “Does that mean you will be joining the Auror Academy?”

“I didn’t get a Degree in Combat, sir,” Harry responded.

“Your defense scores wouldn’t have warranted it, Harry,” Luna put in.

“You did get a degree, didn’t you, Mr. Potter?” Master Borage wanted to know.

“English Literature, both Wizarding and Muggle,” Harry responded, suddenly preoccupied with the lavish Parisian carpeting upon the redwood floors.

“Literature?” Master Borage asked, clearly surprised.

Harry swallowed and looked back up at the man. “That’s correct, sir.”

Master Borage smiled slowly. “It is not often that I am surprised by people, let alone strangers, as I firmly believed, at one time in my life, to have the entirety of the world figured out. Yet, as I grew older, I realized how truly mistaken in my assumptions that I was,” he said softly, nodding to himself. “And what other talents do you possess, then, Mr. Potter?”

“I was Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team from my first year until my fifth, and then I took over as captain,” he responded.

“Ah, I see,” Master Borage replied with a nod. “What do you fly, then?”

“I had a Nimbus 2000 until it flew into the Whomping Willow my third-year,” Harry told him. “I then got a Firebolt from my godfather during that year, and still ride it today...”

“Until I told him to do away with that deathtrap, and bought him a Firebolt Supreme to celebrate his commencement from Flarmerth Academy,” Severus said, coming up behind him, and wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist. “Good evening Libatius, Pomona, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Lovegood.”

Harry turned and looked over at Severus. “I thought we discussed that the Supreme was far too generous, and that I couldn’t possibly accept it...”

“Come now, Harry,” Severus said, chuckling loudly. “Not here. Nobody wants to hear about how selfless you are when it comes to a mere broomstick.”

Harry momentarily gritted his teeth again, before forcing a smile to his lips. “Of course, Severus,” he replied, his tone compliant.

Severus looked uncomfortable then. “Excuse us,” he said, his eyes never leaving Harry’s, as he gently pulled Harry away from the crowd, out some white French doors, and onto a stone balcony, which overlooked a lavish garden, one Harry was sure housed dozens of potions ingredients, if not more. “Harry, is something bothering you?”

Harry sighed. “I’m not a child.”

Severus blinked. “I never insinuated that you were.”

“No, but your words did make me feel as if I was some kept boy of yours, waiting to be fucked, and told to be silent whenever a conflict arises,” Harry said, working on his tone, although he knew it came out snappish.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am sorry, Harry. I just didn’t want to make the other guests uncomfortable...”

“Two of them are my friends,” Harry said quickly.

“And the other is a colleague of mine,” Severus said, lowering his hand.

Harry gripped the stone of the balcony; it was cool to his touch, but it did nothing to assuage his temper, boiling within him. “Are you trying to say that I shamed you in there?”

Severus shook his head. “No, of course not...”

“Because it sounds like you were,” Harry muttered, cutting across him. Swallowing then, his voice coming out a whisper, he asked, “Where is my Firebolt?”

Severus sighed. “Before your birthday, while you were still in Godric’s Hollow, I had Mr. Weasley bring it to me,” he responded.

Harry straightened up then. “Excuse me? Bring it to you?”

Severus nodded, a jerk of a movement. “Yes.”

Harry tapped his fingers upon the balcony. “And where, may I ask, is it now?”

Severus swallowed. “I donated it to Quality Quidditch Supplies,” he said, and Harry felt rage slamming through him. “They were quite pleased to get it—”

“Are you kidding me?!” screamed Harry. “You just up and _took_ it?! What in Merlin’s name is the matter with you?!”

“Harry...”

“No, I’m completely serious!” Harry shouted. “How would you feel if I went into your lab, without your permission, and took a book, or a cauldron, or some prized ingredients?”

Severus’s mouth thinned. “They are hardly the same thing.”

“Just because my broom doesn’t mean anything to you, doesn’t make it worthless in comparison to your potion necessities!” Harry yelled.

“Lover’s quarrel?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to the left at the familiarity of the voice, and felt his blood grow cold when he saw Professor Slughorn himself in the doorway. It was the first time he had seen the man since knowing about his illicit affair with Severus.

“Not now, Horace,” Severus said, dragging a hand down his face.

“Shame,” Professor Slughorn replied, spinning the glass of expensive elf-made wine in his hand, and seemed to mull over the scene before him. “You know where to find me, Severus. Or, perhaps, if you’re so inclined, you may do so as well, Harry,” the man said with a smirk, before slipping back into the party.

Severus’s gaze snapped towards his lover then, his eyes filled with anger. “When were you planning on telling me?”

Harry felt fury blazing through him. “I would be very careful with your next words, Severus,” he responded, reigning in his temper, but only just.

“His implications are enough for you, surely.”

“You know as well as I do that I haven’t been with anyone else other than you, and, from what you’ve told me, old Sluggy doesn’t get fucked,” Harry responded, spitting the words.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t suck you dry,” Severus said, his tone vulgar.

“You can’t possibly be serious?!” Harry demanded. “Are you telling me that the Slug Club was code for something?!”

Severus laughed bitterly. “He did use it as a tool to procure his companions, yes.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, rest assured he never chose me,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself at the implications of it all. “The man never touched me, save for the customary handshake or the occasional pat upon the shoulder.”

Severus lowered his eyes. “I apologize for doubting you, Harry...”

Harry gritted his teeth at the notion that Severus appeared uncertain, and shook his head; if there was no trust between them, where could they possibly go from here? “Go.”

Severus blinked, locking eyes with Harry. “What did you say?”

“Go. Just go,” Harry said, waving the man off. “You obviously want to speak to him, and who am I to refuse you?”

Severus looked thunderstruck, indecision riddling his features. “Harry...”

“No,” Harry said firmly, turning his back on the man. “As I said, who am I to tell you who you can and can’t talk to, or can and can’t do?”

Severus sighed, his shoulders deflating then. “Who indeed?” he asked, spinning on his heel and leaving Harry, bereft, on the balcony, before the younger man Apparated back to his flat alone, the darkness and loneliness surrounding him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) The Wizarding Marriage & Betrothals Act of 1772 (made up by me) is a blatant parody of the Royal Marriages Act 1772  
> (2) The model for Moonshine Manor can be found here: https://www.rightmove.co.uk/properties/97780106#/


	10. Not Singing From the Same Sheet of Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Early Birthday, Severus! Wanted to post this tomorrow, but I finished it and just could not wait!
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Yes, it has indeed been a while and I do apologize for that. I haven't been myself lately, mentally, and wasn't in a good place to be writing. But, for now, please enjoy chapter ten. I hope to get the final three out as soon as possible. Love you all!

It had been two days since the disastrous party that Severus had taken him to, and there was no owl post, nor Floo call, from the man. Resolving to put the entire matter out of his mind, thinking that they seriously needed space, Harry put his mind to assisting Ron and Hermione, after the latter finally agreed that it would be entirely suitable for them to move in together. Although he would miss sharing a flat with Ron, Harry was pleased for the development in his and Hermione’s relationship, and resolved to be completely supportive.

“Careful with my Cannons memorabilia, mate!” Ron cried out, watching as Harry, seemingly haphazardly, dumped them into a box.

“I already utilized a Cushioning Charm, Ron,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes, and Ron visibly calmed down. “I know how important it is to you. Really, who do you think you’re talking to here?” he asked, shaking his head.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, mate. Guess I’m just nervous about moving in with ‘Mione, you know? Mum already got me a book on Household Spells. Did you know that the two of them actually talk about my apparent lack of cleanliness?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Well, Ron, out of the two of us, who does the most cleaning up around here?” he asked.

Ron pulled at his hair. “Well...”

Harry grinned at him. “I rest my case.”

Hermione stepped into Ron’s bedroom behind the redhead and clicked her tongue. “Well, at least you’ll have a proper spare room now, when Teddy comes to visit,” she reasoned. “Are you still looking to move flats?”

Harry shrugged. “I may. I need to get a better look at the properties my parents left to me. I may even attempt to find my own eventually.”

Hermione grinned at him. “Oh, wouldn’t that be marvelous?” she asked. “Just say the word, Harry, and I’ll look at them with you, when the time comes.”

Harry smiled back at her. “I’d actually appreciate that, Hermione. Thank you.” He hesitated for a moment, watching from the corner of his eye as Hermione summoned Ron’s meager collection of books into a box, while Ron began to sort his other personal possessions. “Have you talked to your parents about the move?” Harry asked, his question directed at Hermione.

“They’re beside themselves,” Hermione replied, looking despairingly at the books—which mainly consisted of the Hogwarts and Flarmerth curriculum, as well as some Quidditch magazines, and Harry knew she would attempt to make a proper reader out of Ron yet. “I mean, of course, I think they’d prefer if our relationship seemed a bit more permanent to the outside world, but they realize things are changing...”

“Permanent?” Ron squawked. “What in Merlin’s name does that mean? Neither of them said anything to me...”

Hermione straightened up and placed her hands upon her hips. “That’s because they, unlike the twins, possess some tact, Ronald,” she said primly. “They absolutely adore you, you know that. I mean, they were worried that your eye had wandered to Lavender for a while there while we were still at Hogwarts...”

Ron flushed red to his ears at the mention of Lavender, who had taken an apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s and was now a fully-fledged healer, and married to their year-mate Ernie Macmillan, who had taken over Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. “You know it never would’ve worked between us,” he said softly. “I need to breathe to live, and she never allowed much of that when we were...doing what we were doing...”

Hermione visibly gritted her teeth; it was still a painful thing for her to remember, and Harry could recall on more than one occasion when she’d returned to the common room, eyes red from crying, and had sought out Harry for comfort during the months Ron and Lavender had been snogging around various areas of the school. “Well,” she said, turning away from them, and putting a Cleaning Charm onto Ron’s bookshelf, “that’s all over and done with now. We’ve all moved on...”

Harry looked up then, and Ron was looking pleadingly at him. “I’ll just take this through the Floo, shall I?” he asked, gathering up the box, now completely packed, and slipped from Ron’s bedroom. Walking through the living room and gathering a handful of Floo Powder, Harry called for Hermione’s flat and stepped through the green flames, and into th sensible-looking living room in Oxford. He didn’t really know why he, Ron, and Hermione called it a flat, when it was really more of a bungalow, but the term had stuck around. Walking through the room, Harry trooped into what Hermione had designated as Ron’s ‘man cave’, a Muggle expression if he had ever heard one, and placed the box onto the floor.

Having a vague idea of how Ron liked things, he opened the box and banished its contents to various places. A few moments later, the walls were covered in posters, the desk was decked-out in memorabilia, and some Quidditch magazines had found their way onto a new bookshelf. He smiled to himself and left the room, and meandered into the kitchen to get a snack. Spotting the fruit bowl, he took and apple and bit into it, suddenly feeling the sensation of something rubbing against his legs. Looking down, Harry smiled at the sight of Crookshanks, who had mellowed considerably since their commencement from Hogwarts. Bending down, once he had finished his apple, Harry took the half-Kneazle into his arms, stroking the orange fur until the feline hybrid purred softly in his arms.

“Now, I know you’ve always preferred me to Ron, and Hedwig to Pigwidgeon,” he said softly, and the brown eyes of the cat stared up at him, “but Ron and Pig are moving in here.”

Crookshanks let out a low growl at the implication.

“Now, now, not much can be done about Pig, I’m afraid,” Harry went on, and Crookshanks stared up at him, “but Ron’s really tried with you. You know that.”

Crookshanks yawned as if he was bored with Ron’s apparent efforts.

“And I also know that Hermione thinks of you as her first child,” Harry continued, and the cat seemed to snuggle closer to Harry at this, “but, bearing that fact in mind, Ron will fall into the role of father, given his relationship with Hermione.”

Crookshanks seemed to glare at him.

“He’s a good bloke,” Harry assured him, “and, remember, just because he had Scabbers for a while there, doesn’t make him a bad person.”

Crookshanks sniffed, as if in acknowledgement.

Harry pursed his lips, wondering if he was getting anywhere; Scabbers had been revealed to be his fathers’ one-time friend, Peter Pettigrew, who had tried, unsuccessfully while on the run for an entire year, to resurrect Tom Riddle. However, it had proved futile, as he neglected to remember that he would need Harry’s blood, as his enemy, to complete the potion. With Harry safely sequestered at Hogwarts, there was no way to obtain such an ingredient and, since there was a trace upon his wand, he was caught after being on the lam for twelve months. Harry was called to testify before the Wizengamot, and Pettigrew was given over to the secure ward at St. Mungo’s, where he could never leave, and was still very much there.

Crookshanks sneezed, bringing Harry back to the conversation.

“Sorry, wandered off,” he said quietly. “Anyhow, I know it would mean the world to Hermione if you could just try to get along with Ron. You can do that, can’t you?”

Crookshanks let out the feline equivalent of a sigh, which Harry took to mean assent.

“Thank you for that,” he replied, pressing a kiss to Crookshanks’ forehead and gently setting him down. “I’d better go and check on them. You know what happens when you leave them alone for too long.”

Crookshanks flipped his tail and wandered out of the kitchen, and Harry turned around and headed back to the Floo.

Tossing in the Floo Powder, Harry called out for “Potter-Weasley Flat”, and was promptly deposited onto the living room floor. Hedwig hooted briefly in greeting, her yellow eyes drifting towards Ron’s bedroom, where Harry could hear Hermione and Ron speaking. As he stepped closer, he smiled to himself as he listened to the sounds of Ron packing his belongings, and Hermione lecturing him in typical fashion about Sizing Charms.

“Crookshanks is well,” Harry said by way of announcing himself, stopping short at the threshold of Ron’s room, and breathing in sharply through his teeth. It had taken the entire stripping of Ron’s bedroom for it to finally set home that Ron and Hermione were indeed moving in together, and Harry wavered on the balls of his feet for a moment. “So...”

Hermione, taking the hint, kissed Ron on the cheek and moved to leave, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as she went. “I’ll just go and check on Crookshanks, shall I?” she asked, and Harry heard the Floo flaring a moment later.

Ron straightened up then from where he was tucking a plain-looking duvet onto the bed, one that Teddy would likely approve of when he came to spend the night. “Please don’t look at me that way, mate,” he begged.

Harry forced a smile onto his face. “You’re right, sorry,” he said quickly, a nervous laugh escaping through his lips. “It’s just that you were in the bed right next to mine for seven years, and during a lot of the summers... And then you were literally down the hall from me for another four...” Harry laughed again, a breathy sound. “It’s just going to take some getting-used-to, is all, for me, at least.”

Ron pulled a hand through his hair as he stepped around the bed. “Don’t for a minute think it won’t take any getting-used-to for me, mate,” he said firmly, before he tugged Harry into his arms and held him firmly. “You know as well as I do that, if Mum and Dad could’ve afforded a law wizard, that you’d be a ‘Weasley’, too...”

“I _am_ a Weasley, Ron, in all but name,” Harry assured him, clasping him back. “I guess I’m just thinking about how you and Hermione... Well, both of you have got a plan. I just feel stagnant after graduation, you know?”

Ron pulled back from Harry, chuckling. “Hermione could likely afford not to have an immediate plan, mate, or just sample a few things for a while. Me? I have limited options here, likely because my parents didn’t have an inheritance for any of us. Bill and Fleur were lucky, in that Aunt Lucretia left them Shell Cottage, and Charlie had his future planned out from the time he started reading about _Pip the Dragon and his Grand Adventures_ ,” he went on, sharing a chuckle with Harry, at the direct mention of a hoard of wizarding books for children, about a beloved Welsh Green Dragon called Pip, of whom both Charlie and Teddy were especially fond. “And then there was Percy, destined for the ministry if anyone had anything to say about it, and Fred and George got the shop...”

“They offered you an apprenticeship there, didn’t they?” Harry asked, recalling hearing something about it when they’d finished at Hogwarts.

Ron smiled. “They did, but I didn’t think being an assistant shopkeeper would’ve endeared me anymore to Hermione.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “What are you talking about? She loves you...”

“And she’s used to a more comfortable way of life, due to her parents’ salaries,” Ron told him patiently. “She worked so hard at Hogwarts and at Vaenmiara, Harry, and I can’t ask her to be the main breadwinner when we actually settle down in a home together.”

“Ron, did one of the Doctors Granger tell you this?” Harry asked, his hackles rising quickly at the thought of Hermione’s parents telling Ron that he wouldn’t be good enough for their daughter without a more high-profile job. “If they did, tell me right now, because so help me, I’ll—!”

“No, Harry, they didn’t tell me that,” Ron assured him in a calm voice, and Harry quickly managed to calm himself. “As much as I love the shop and appreciate all that Fred and George do, I couldn’t work there all the time. I have to learn to be a bit more serious, and I know that Hermione loves me, just as much as I love her. But I want to grow up a bit, Harry, and I feel honored that the Auror Academy accepted me.”

Harry nodded at him. “Of course, Ron. And it’s a highly-respectable position within the Wizarding World. I’m glad you got in, because it’s what you really want.”

“And do you know what you want, Harry?”

Harry blinked. “Well...”

The Floo flared again and Hermione came into the room, smiling. “Well, that was the last box to move,” she said proudly. “Why don’t we go to The Screeching Swan?”

“The what?” Ron asked.

“The new bistro in Diagon Alley,” Harry explained. “They’re the second establishment to be on the Floo Network, you know.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all piled into the Floo, calling out for The Screeching Swan, and were deposited into the main foyer of a restaurant, with black and white marble flooring, and a rich and lush-looking blue carpet with screeching swans upon it. Casting Cleaning Charms, they went towards the host, who promptly seated them at a rounded deep blue booth along the back wall of the establishment. Looking around, Harry noticed that the walls were highly-polished Jacobean wood, and the exposed planks along the ceiling were tangled with fairy lights.

Harry and Ron ordered steak frites with a glass of cabernet each while Hermione opted for coq au vin with a glass of pinot noir. Hermione selected a delectable-sounding vegetable tart for their starter, which was served on freshly-baked French bread and came with mushrooms, leeks, turnips, tomatoes, parsnips, and shallots. Ron initially turned his nose up at the dish, but after the rousing endorsement from both his best friend and girlfriend, he sampled it, and found that he wholeheartedly enjoyed it.

“How are you finding the job offers, Harry?”

Harry pursed his lips, watching as Hermione swirled her wine from within its glass. “They’re all right, I suppose,” he muttered, knowing good and well that his mind had been elsewhere for the last two days.

Ron sighed, knowing where Harry’s mind was. “I’m starting to think that the greasy git isn’t worth it, mate,” he said quietly.

Harry huffed. “Thanks, Ron.”

Hermione looked between both of them, her dark brows descending towards her eyes along her pale skin. “All right. What’s going on here, and who do I have to hex before they tell me?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Harry dragged his hands over his face as Ron cowed in the seat on the opposite side. “Severus and I did not have a pleasant evening while at the manor.”

Hermione blinked. “Nothing that couldn’t be fixed with some intimacy later, though, right?” she asked, thinking that her logic was sensible.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron muttered, going red to his ears, only to yelp when she kicked him beneath the table with her boot.

“I wouldn’t let him near me, let alone enough to touch me,” Harry growled. “He _sold_ my Firebolt, Hermione!” he cried out.

Hermione pursed her lips. “Harry, you know as well as I do how old that broomstick was getting,” she said softly. “Perhaps...”

“You’re taking Snape’s side?!” Ron demanded. “Just because you don’t care about Quidditch, Hermione, doesn’t mean that Harry—”

Hermione whipped around to face her boyfriend, glaring at him. “If you had allowed me to continue, Ronald Weasley,” she hissed, “you would have heard my opinion on the matter.” She turned back to Harry again. “Am I to understand that Severus sold your Firebolt without previously consulting you?”

Harry sighed. “Yes and no...”

“Well, which is it?” Hermione asked, spreading her hands. “Yes or no?”

“He mentioned to me twice that he _thought_ I should sell it,” Harry explained. “The first time was when he presented me with the Supreme, and the second was when I had my business meeting with him at the bureau. He... He mentioned to me that he was concerned for my safety, and that he wanted to make sure that I had a safe broom.”

“Your broom _was_ nearly a decade old, Harry,” Hermione said gently. “I know it meant a lot to you, but can’t you consider that Severus may have sold it because he wanted you safe?” She turned to face Ron then, who had begun to sputter in protest. “I’m not suggesting that every significant other go through their loved ones’ belongings and sell off or get rid of things that could prove hazardous or valuable to their owners, Ronald,” she growled, before she turned and looked back at Harry. “I suggest, that when you see one another again, you have a long discussion about what happened.”

“But he was _wrong_!” Harry whined.

Hermione sighed. “He went about the situation in an entirely inappropriate manner, Harry, I’m not conceding that,” she told him pragmatically. “However, to make a relationship work, the pair of you need to communicate. Is it possible that, due to your anger at Severus selling off something precious of yours, that you allowed your temper to get the better of you?”

Harry nibbled at his tongue. “It’s possible,” he allowed.

“Very good,” Hermione praised with a nod. “As much as I love you, Harry, you do tend to lash out when your sensibilities are threatened. I’m not blaming you, but you do need to speak to Severus at the earliest possible convenience.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“Because allowing an argument to fester, no matter how justified you may believe it to be, is entirely unhealthy for any relationship you want to see work,” she replied. “As I said, Severus went about it in the wrong way, but perhaps if the two of you permitted yourself to see the scenario from the other’s point of view, you would do better.”

“Do better?” Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. “Of course. By doing better with communication, your relationship has the capability to thrive.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders slacking. “I’ll get in touch with him in the next couple of days,” he told her. “I’m still sorting through some stuff, and I don’t want to launch into anything while I could still hex his balls off.”

Hermione smiled, elbowing Ron in the ribs as he moved to protest, and lifted her glass of wine to sip at it. “Well, that’s sensible,” she told him, “because I’ll be unable to represent you for another couple of years anyway.”

~*~

It was in the early hours of the afternoon three days later that Harry suddenly let out a huff of exasperation, as he spilled some ink onto the latest polite refusal of applications. This one came from the ministry itself, from Moody and Shacklebolt respectively, informing him that he still had plenty of time to join the Auror Academy. Spelling the ink away, Harry angrily wrote a refusal, wondering why neither man could understand that he didn’t want to be a ministry employee, and that they should understand that.

“Here, girl,” Harry said carefully, and Hedwig swooped upwards and caught the letter, once Harry had sealed the envelope. “Get this directly to Moody and Kings, will you?”

Hedwig hooted, nipping gently at Harry’s fingers before she flew out the open window.

Harry himself crossed towards the window, watching as the late-summer sunlight trickled through Hedwig’s snow-white wings. Shaking his head, he stared out at the section of London where witches and wizards alike resided, and leaned against the frame. Hermione and Ron had gone up to her parents’ house for a week before her shadowing and his training began, and so he was in virtual seclusion.

It was half-one now, so people who were working that day were likely back from lunch. Wetting his lips in a moment of contemplation, Harry decided to Floo directly to the bureau. Enough was enough, he decided, and, since Severus had hardly called or sent him a piece of owl post, he thought that direct confrontation was the proper way to go about things. Stepping into his summer loafers, Harry crossed the living room of the flat and grabbed ahold of the Floo Powder, before he shouted, “Fiole Bureau!” and was swallowed up by a mess of green flames.

Harry landed in the atrium of the renowned potions establishment, taking a moment to allow himself a quick look-around. It was less stuffy than it had been upon his first visit, which made Harry wonder if Severus observed the changing of the seasons. Shaking his head and stretching out his limbs, he casted _Scourgify_ upon himself and made his way towards the desk, where he spotted Penelope meticulously taking notes.

“Oh! Good afternoon, Harry,” Penelope said, her tone as pleasant as it always was, as she smiled brightly at him. She was garbed in a pale blue blouse that day, which matched her eyes. “What can I do for you today?”

“I’m looking for Severus,” Harry responded, formality going out the window. “Do you know if he’s in?”

Penelope smiled a little sadly then and shook her head. “I’m afraid not,” she replied. “Master Snape accepted an invitation from an old friend, Headmaster Igor Karkaroff. Have you heard of him?” she queried.

Harry gritted his teeth; yes, he’d heard of the man, who was Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute near Bulgaria, where Viktor Krum had attended school. He recalled the hard face of the man, and his long salt-and-pepper hair with matching beard, at the finale of the Quidditch World Cup nearly a decade ago, cheering on his favorite student. “Yes, I know him,” Harry confirmed, and did his best not to allow his tone to encroach upon bitter territory, although he was failing at in in quite a miserable fashion. “Did he say when he’d be back?”

“He’s harvesting rare ingredients in Mogiltsa,” Penelope explained gently, naming a forest which was rumored to be in close-proximity to Durmstrang. “He’s arranged to be there until the end of the week, at most. He’s not informed us of a definite return date.”

Harry nodded shakily, knowing there was not much else to be done. “Thank you,” he forced himself to say.

“Shall I tell him you came to call?” Penelope asked.

Harry sighed. “Why not?” he asked, not bothering to bid her a proper farewell, as he walked away from her desk and meandered towards the main doors. He stepped outside into the summer sunshine, but felt no joy as it came down onto his skin. Shaking his head at his stupidity, Harry tried not to think about how intimate Severus was with Karkaroff, or if he had taken another companion with him to cultivate ingredients.

Harry continued to walk through the streets of London, wandering inconspicuously though both Wizarding and Muggle neighborhoods, with none of the respective residents being any the wiser of his identity, or his plight. The sun never wavered in its intensity, but the cleverly-placed Cooling Charms did their work expertly, especially when he was able to refresh them. It was when he came upon a slightly familiar row of brick houses that he slowed his steps, and was not altogether surprised when the door to the seventh one opened, and a familiar face, complete with a mane of red hair, stared openly at him.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, stepping onto the staircase before her, worry in her beautiful brown eyes as she gripped the railing. “Are you all right?”

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “No,” he admitted.

Ginny made her way down the remaining staircase and offered her hand. “Why don’t you come inside? We’ll have tea. We don’t have to talk, not if you don’t want to, but you look as if you could do with some company right now.”

Harry sighed, and nodded his head. “I could do with both, actually,” he responded, and allowed Ginny to lead him back up the staircase of her flat, and felt a bit better once they were inside. “I smell something delicious,” he said as he stepped over the stoop.

Ginny smiled, squeezing Harry’s shoulder for a moment and beckoned him into the kitchen, just down the hallway. “I was baking some biscuits,” she explained, as Harry followed her into the open-concept kitchen, with massive windows, and a side door which led out to Ginny’s small back garden. “We’re off for a few weeks, and, since I’m in recovery, I’ve been told by my healers that I should relax and eat whatever I like, so to speak.”

“So, you went through with the procedure, then?” Harry asked, perching upon one of the bar stools of the kitchen island when Ginny waved him there.

Ginny nodded, pulling pot holders onto her hand—which looked like they’d come from Molly’s own knitting needles—and bent to retrieve the biscuits from the oven. “I did,” she responded, setting the pan on the other side of the island to cool, and set the kettle onto the hob. “It’s been quiet around here, which is for the best...”

Harry took the opportunity to look around then, and noticed that several of the decorations that Dean had selected when they’d tentatively gotten the place together were gone. He recalled that he hadn’t seen any of Dean’s coats, wellies, or other shoes in the foyer either. Dean still kept his own flat, as it was near his work, but he usually spent most nights with Ginny. “Dean’s left, then?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Ginny gave Harry a small smile. “Yes. It wasn’t about what happened with Trecus, although Dean’s agreed to be supportive of me, as a proper friend should,” she said, leaning up against the opposite counter. “It wasn’t right, the two of us, and we agreed that we should’ve stopped it a long time ago, back at Hogwarts... But, now that he’s free of me, he’ll finally realize that he’s meant to be with Seamus.”

Harry blinked. “So, he’s gone and figured it out, then?”

Ginny laughed softly. “I don’t think it was a question of him figuring it out or not. It was his loyalty to me that kept him from finding his true happiness.” She let out a soft sigh then. “I’ll never forgive myself for keeping him from Seamus, but Dean’s assured me that he doesn’t resent me for it. I held on to this notion that Dean was the one for me, because I couldn’t stand the notion of being alone. I thought it was about you, Harry, and it was, initially. But it then came down to the fact that I didn’t want to be single. I wanted someone to come home to, like Mum and Dad had, like Bill and Fleur have, like Ron and Hermione have.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time. “The notion of training so hard and being on the road for weeks at a time, only to come back to an empty flat at the end of things was a devastating concept, which contributed to why I held onto Dean for so long. It was a selfish, rotten thing to do, and I think he let me off far too easily.”

Harry surveyed the hanging plants which were interspersed between and around the trio of large windows along the back wall of the kitchen. He remembered that Neville and Luna had done quite a bit of research on kitchen herbs and whatnot, and had brought them along as a housewarming gift for Ginny. “Selfishly,” he said softly, as Ginny turned off the kettle and poured the water over the tea leaves in the two mugs, “I’m pleased to know that I’m not the only one engaging in self-loathing.”

Ginny smirked slightly then, levitating Harry’s cup over to him, after she had added a splash of milk and two sugars to the drink. “So, that is what you were doing when I came upon you outside my flat?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Harry replied, stirring his tea with the provided spoon.

“What’s happened to make you engage in self-loathing, then?” she asked, one red brow raising along her pale forehead. “If you want to tell me, that is.”

Harry lifted the cup and blew upon the surface of his tea, creating ripples as he did so. “It’s Severus,” he confessed.

Ginny nodded. “It’s people that we care for the most who have the capability of bringing us the most hurt,” she observed.

Harry chuckled ruefully. “You’re telling me...”

“What happened?” she asked him gently.

Harry took a sip of tea, before returning the cup back onto the surface of the island, and dragged a hand down the side of his face. “We had an argument the night of the celebration he asked me to attend with him.”

“At Moonshine Manor?” Ginny queried, and Harry looked up, seemingly surprised that she knew of the precise location. “Hermione had mentioned it to me when we went for lunch a few days before she and Ron left for Cumbria,” she explained, blushing prettily. “Your hosts’ wife is quite fond of Quidditch, so the Harpies have been to a number of dinners there. Lovely place... I suppose that you and Severus had a disagreement of some kind?”

“You could say that.”

Ginny pursed her lips as she mulled it over. “The twins couldn’t stop going on about the Supreme that Severus got you when you graduated Flarmerth,” she murmured, and smiled at Harry’s momentary look of surprise. “Alicia and I discuss Quidditch regularly, Harry, and, since we’re on opposing teams, we do discuss our petty rivalry on occasion. However, she _is_ likely going to be my sister-in-law one day soon, so, of course, we discuss things... Does your argument with Severus have anything to do with the Supreme?”

Harry sighed, his shoulders deflating. “It did, yes... I mentioned to Severus, more than once, mind you, that I fully intended upon keeping my Firebolt.”

“Sirius gave that to you third-year,” Ginny said with a faraway smile. “I remember how happy you were to get it, especially after your Nimbus 2000 went flying into the Whomping Willow after the match like that...”

Harry bit at his lips. “It was also the fact that it was the first large present a proper family member had given to me,” he murmured, and then shook his head. “Not that the jumpers and mince pies and things your parents gave me didn’t matter...”

“I understand, Harry,” Ginny told him. “Mum and Dad could never have afforded something as grand as a Firebolt. A Cleansweep, to be sure, but not a Firebolt.”

Harry smiled, still a bit bashful, but relieved that Ginny hadn’t taken offense to the comment. “I told Severus of how meaningful the broomstick was to me, but he never seemed to fully grasp that. So, at the party, we were speaking to some other guests, and Quidditch came up, and then Severus mentioned that he’d encouraged me to sell off the Firebolt, and that I’d only be riding the Supreme he’d gotten me from then on.”

Ginny looked thoughtful then, although Harry could sense that that blazing look of hers was trying to make a play from behind the mask. “Do you think it was malicious, what he did?” she asked softly. “It was definitely thoughtless, and the pair of you need to talk about what happened as soon as possible. But do you think he did it to be cruel?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, placing his palms down onto the island. “I just don’t know. I mean, there’s still so much I don’t know about him...”

“It’s the little things we know about a person,” Ginny whispered. “Such as, Dean knew that I despise lentils, and I know that he’s allergic to shellfish.”

Harry smiled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Ginny returned the smile. “Part of any given relationship is knowing about the other, as well as proper communication,” she went on. “If you think there’s a possibility of a future with Severus, you need both on your side.”

Harry sighed, knowing just how right Ginny was. “Now, if only I could get him to open up and talk to me...”

“He’ll come around,” Ginny assured him, lifting her mug to her lips. “Anyone with eyes can see that he’s mad for you.”

~*~

After the debacle at the bureau, Harry found himself wondering if he should leave Severus to his own devices, or venture out to find him again. In the wake of his conversation with Ginny, he returned to the flat to find a letter from Ron and Hermione, informing him that Hermione’s parents were overjoyed that the pair were now living together. Harry made a mental note to meet with a goblin at Gringotts to go over his inherited properties again, knowing that he wouldn’t want to remain in the flat on his own for very long.

Harry held the card that Ginny had given him of the mind healer she had been seeing in the wake of her abortion. She told Harry that she didn’t expect him to se her own counselor, and that he could merely attend a referral meeting with the woman. Healer Tierra Dovetail was one of the best that St. Mungo’s currently had on offer, so Harry wondered if making an appointment was the right thing to do. He spent the rest of the day thinking it over, sending out for Indian takeaway that night, the chicken curry filling him with something akin to momentary fulfillment as his mind worked around his current predicaments. Dobby had made him plenty of meals to last the week, and the flat certainly wouldn’t need as much cleaning done, now that Ron had moved out to live with Hermione.

Harry awoke the following morning and worked out in the living room, under Hedwig’s watchful eye, before he took a shower and helped himself to the full English that Dobby had left in the warming cupboard for him. He sorted through some more job applications, still not fully sure what he wanted to do, but coming to some definite decisions along the way. Just before lunch, he Fire-Called St. Mungo’s and made an appointment with Healer Dovetail, wondering if it was the right course of action. However, Healer Dovetail could help him in making plans and potentially finding himself again, he reasoned, so perhaps it was a decent idea after all.

Harry had a light lunch of a green salad before heading out of the flat, walking through the small wizarding marketplace that operated daily during the summer months, just a few blocks away from the flat. He bought fresh produce, some flowers, some meats and cheeses, and a lovely knickknack that he knew Headmaster Dumbledore would like, vowing to send it along with Hedwig by the end of the following week. It was a wooden piece, carved into the shape of a cat and painted black, with the further details—eyes, whiskers, and the like—painted in bright, happy colors. Smiling to himself as he returned to the flat, he thought that the old headmaster would love the little artifact.

He spent the next day testing out charms on the little animal, before he found the perfect one to give it life. Immobilizing it temporarily, he sent it off with Hedwig, along with a note for the headmaster, telling him where he had gotten it. He got a reply quickly, letting him know that the man was tempted to terrorize Professor McGonagall with it in her Animagus form. Smirking to himself at his former headmaster’s childish antics, Harry wrote a reply before continuing to sort through his job applications for the next several hours.

It was after dinner, in which Harry dined on a lovely sea bass with potatoes and steamed vegetables that he heard a knock upon the door. Perplexed, as he was not expecting anyone, Harry quickly tidied up the remainder of the dinner things, and casted a Cleaning Charm upon his mouth before walking towards th door. He opened it then, stumbling over the non-existent threshold, eyes wide and mouth open, as he took in his unexpected guest.

“Harry,” Severus whispered, eyes vulnerable and filled with sadness.

Biting his lower lip in anticipation, Harry forced himself to move back and away from the doorway. “Please, come in,” he said softly, lowering his eyes as the potions master crossed the threshold and into the flat.

Severus followed Harry’s command and turned to face him, watching as the younger man shut the door behind him. “Harry...”

Harry lifted his head at the sound of his name from that dark chocolate voice, sensing that it was laced with caramel this time around, and turned slowly. “Yes,” he said softly.

Severus looked as if he was longing to say something, but it seemed to become lodged in his throat. Nevertheless, the former Slytherin powered through, straightening himself up and staring at the man before him. “How have you been?”

Harry sighed, his shoulders deflating. “Please, no small talk,” he said softly, crossing towards the living room and onto the couch, flushing when he remembered Severus spanking him the night of his graduation. “I hardly think you came here to ask me how I am.”

“I didn’t,” Severus admitted, walking after him, and positioned himself upon the opposite end of the couch at Harry’s nod. “However, I still would like to know.”

Harry swallowed, unsure of how to answer the statement. Finally, truth won out. “I’ve been doing mundane tasks to pass the time,” he admitted, clasping his hands at his knees. “I even went to the bureau to try and find you...”

“Penelope had mentioned that,” Severus said softly.

Harry scoffed. “If you’re going to tell me how pathetic it is...”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Severus said, cutting him off, his voice firm but not angry. “I’ve been back in the British Isles for all of a quarter of an hour. I used the International Portkey, given to me by the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and returned to the bureau. I arrived directly into my office and filed away the ingredients before I asked Penelope if anything had happened while I was away. There were some routine or meaningless things, of course, but I was amazed when she informed me that you had come to call.”

“Why were you amazed?” Harry asked, peeking up at him.

“I have never attempted to be a nice man, Harry,” Severus responded. “I am approachable and cordial to colleagues and my employees when the situation calls for it, and am slightly warmer when it comes to my family, save for my father. However, you... You mystify me, Harry James Potter,” he mused, and Harry’s eyes locked directly with his. “I’ve never met anyone like you before in all my life, and, quite frankly, it frightens me.”

Harry sighed, shaking his head. “Is it because of your fear of me that you decided to sell off my Firebolt without telling me?”

Severus looked uncomfortable. “You’re correct in being angry with me,” he responded. “If you sold off a cauldron, or something of equal value to me, without my permission, I myself would be very angry with you.”

“I need you to communicate with me,” Harry told him quietly. “If we don’t communicate, none of this between us will work.”

“We’ve already established the abnormality of our relationship...”

Harry smiled at him. “Well, it is still a relationship,” he told him, “one that we’ll have to talk to each other in, because, if we don’t, it will only continue to get worse and worse, and then it’ll only fall apart.”

Severus reached out and offered his hand. “I am more than willing to try, if you are.”

Harry nodded, taking the hand on offer. “I am willing, Severus.”

Severus used the pad of his thumbs to caress Harry’s knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I apologize for selling off your Firebolt without discussing it with you first,” he said quietly. “I will endeavor not to make similar decisions without your input in future.”

Harry shuddered at what Severus’s thumb was doing to him. “That’s really all I can ask for, I suppose,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“Airing out our dirty laundry in public,” Harry responded. “We could’ve easily left the party to discuss it, or wait until we were ready to go to...”

Severus placed the fingers of his free hand gently onto Harry’s lips. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Harry,” he said softly. “You were angry with me, and justifiably so. I will never ask you to hide your thoughts or emotions from me. Ever.”

Harry blinked as the man removed his fingers from his lips, and moved to cup at his cheek. “I like this side of you,” he whispered.

“Do you?”

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly, biting down hard on his lower lip.

Severus visibly stiffened at the gesture. “You’re biting your lip,” he whispered.

Harry blinked. “So I am.”

Severus turned Harry’s hands lose then, and scooped him up effortlessly, bringing him out of the living room and towards the back hallway, where the bedrooms were. At Harry’s indication at which one was his, Severus opened the door with a wave of his hand and kicked it shut behind the two of them, and placed Harry almost reverently upon his bed. Severus then began to undress quickly, and Harry positioned himself upwards and onto his elbows, watching as the older man disrobed, to reveal the beautiful skin, appearing as if it was cut from marble, as always.

“Severus...” He whispered.

Severus smiled down at him, and, once he himself was starkers, proceeded to give the same treatment to Harry, who wriggled about whenever the man’s hands touched his bare skin. “I need to feel you,” he whispered, bending down and pressing his lips hungrily to Harry’s, slipping his tongue inside once he was welcomed, and Harry keened, arching up against him, relieved when he was, at last, naked.

“Please,” Harry begged, biting down hard on his lower lip again, his entire body going flush as Severus stared down at him. “I need you...”

Severus snapped his fingers, and a tub of lube materialized in his hand, causing Harry to become fully erect at the display of powerful, wandless magic. “You’ll have me,” the man vowed, dipping his fingers steadily into the lubricant, and tracing the rim of Harry’s opening. “Do you want me?” he whispered.

Harry let out a moan, and his erection slapped onto his stomach. “I think... Fuck,” he moaned as Severus continued circling his index finger along his arsehole, “I think my extremities speak for themselves...”

Severus chuckled. “Yes, I think they do,” he agreed, gently easing one finger into his lover. “Do you like that?” he whispered, putting his finger more deeply inside.

Harry gritted his teeth, hissing in a considerable amount of air. “Merlin, yes,” he breathed. “I’ll beg you not to stop, if that’s what you want...”

“Although you do beg so prettily,” Severus murmured, gently easing his finger out to get more lube, and this time inserted two fingers into the younger man, “that’s not what I had in mind for today...”

“And what,” Harry whispered, tilting his hips ever so slightly so as Severus’s fingers went deeper still, and tantalizingly brushed his prostate, “fucking hell... Did you have in mind for today, Severus?”

Smirking, Severus continually brushed the nub for several moments, before withdrawing his fingers a second time, added more lube, and brought a third into the mix. “After seeking your forgiveness and ending up in your bedroom,” he observed, the three fingers entering his smaller lover, “I’d no plans in particular.”

Harry managed to raise an eyebrow, although his flush deepened as his lover continued to caress his prostate. “No?” he asked. “Shagging me into the mattress wasn’t in your plans?”

Severus grinned. “Plans and hopes are two totally different things, Harry.”

Harry grinned up at him. “So, you hoped to shag me, then?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Harry?” Severus asked, finishing stretching his lover, before he gently removed his fingers.

Harry let out a whine of protest before he could stop himself, his heart hammering in his breast at the sight of Severus slicking up his cock. “Figured out what?” he breathed.

Severus placed his hands on either side of Harry’s head, his cock teasing his lover’s entrance for a moment, before he pushed forward and slipped inside of him, delighting in the mewl of pleasure Harry let out. “I am always hoping to shag you, Harry,” the man declared, before he gently pulled Harry into his arms, and rocking his hips back and forth in a careful, methodic manner.

“Do you?” whispered Harry.

“I do,” Severus confirmed, proceeding to piston his hips.

Harry accepted the embrace or his older lover, loving the sensations that flowed through him at the notion of being held romantically. There was, however, an ulterior motive for Harry’s willingness to be held so close. It was because he didn’t want the older man to see him sobbing, sobbing at the notion that he was well and truly being made love to, and the fear that echoed through him that he liked it much more than when the man was rough. Something within him said that, should Severus find out about this, he wouldn’t want him anymore, and Harry was determined to hold onto the older man for as long as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The knickknack that Harry gets for Dumbledore is a cat in the style of Mexican folk art. I have one in red, and they're gorgeous little wooden figurines that are painted exceptionally well.


	11. Hasten Forward Quickly There

Harry had spent the remainder of Friday night and the bulk of Saturday in bed with Severus, and he had to admit, he enjoyed watching Severus memorizing his body. He felt as if he was being claimed, and he was not about to object to his lover’s mannerisms. Suffice it to say that Severus Snape was a possessive man, and Harry was all too glad to give into his behavior. With his coal-black eyes and lips devouring him for close to forty-eight hours, Harry wondered how he had gone so long without experiencing sex.

Finally stumbling out of bed on Sunday morning, Harry peered over his shoulder as he put on his robe, watching Severus sleeping in his bed. Smiling indulgently, he padded to his bathroom, taking care of his morning routine, before stepping out into the main portion of the flat. Hedwig stared at him inquisitively with her large, yellow eyes, and Harry smirked, summoning some owl treats for her, and she hooted softly, pleased with the scenario presented to her.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry was quick to realize that Dobby had been shopping, and smiled to himself. He prepared some eggs, bacon, and toast to present to Severus, casting a Monitoring Charm upon it when he heard the Floo flaring in the living room. Hoping that it would be a brief conversation, Harry followed the sounds and crouched before the fireplace, raising his eyebrows when he saw Hermione’s bushy head within the flames.

“Hey, there, ‘Mione,” he said, smiling automatically at her. “I thought Sundays were reserved for you dragging Ron to Merlin-knows-where for brunch with your parents.”

“This Sunday is their anniversary, so they’re out of town until later this evening,” Hermione told him patiently. “Actually, Ron was hoping you had a spare moment to talk.”

Harry grinned. “It’s all right if you want to talk to me, you know. I _did_ warn you about living with Ron, ‘Mione.”

The witch rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing like that,” she said, her tone growing slightly impatient as she shook her head at him. “Ron wanted to speak to you, actually,” she went on, getting to her feet, and hollered to her boyfriend, before sashaying out of the flames.

“Sorry about that, mate,” Ron said, coming into the flames himself, and the pair of them tensed when Hermione slammed a door in the distance.

“Blimey, what’ve you done now?” Harry asked him.

“Nothing!” Ron said quickly, too quickly, and sighed. “I should tell her first... Anyhow, I’ve made reservations in Muggle London. Come, will you? Neville, Luna, and Ginny will be there...”

Harry bit his lip. “I’m not sure, Ron,” he said, vaguely aware of his loo flushing in the distance, and Ron leaned forward.

“Have someone over, mate?”

Harry opened his mouth. “Actually, I...”

“Harry?” came Severus’s voice, and the man stepped into the living room, wearing nothing but his black boxers. He stared into the flames, and tipped his head. “Ah. Ron, how are you?”

“Nice to see you again, Severus,” Ron replied affably.

“How is your weekend going?” Severus asked.

“It’s... Well, I’m managing,” Ron said, appearing uncomfortable. “I was just telling Harry that I’m having a dinner in Muggle London tonight, with our friends, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood...”

“Ah, yes. They are a charming young couple,” Severus replied with a nod. “You don’t need my permission to go, you know, Harry,” Severus told him gently, his fingertips teasing the sensitive skin at his neck. “I should think you’d have a lovely time.”

“Severus, I don’t think...”

“Actually,” Ron interrupted, “I was just telling Harry that he could bring a plus one if he wanted, provided that you don’t have any plans, Severus, and would like to join us.”

Harry flushed. “Ron,” he whined.

“I’ve no plans this evening,” Severus said smoothly, playing with the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck, causing Harry to grow hard. “Where are the reservations?”

“Franco’s on St. Jermyn,” Ron told him, grinning. “Luna recommended it, actually. Our reservation is at seven, under _Weasley_. We’re in the small private room in the back... Hermione’s parents actually managed to snag that,” he said with a chuckle.

“I know the place,” Severus confirmed, guiding Harry to his feet, with a hasty, “I think your bacon is burning,” as he turned back to Ron. “We’ll be there at the appropriate time.”

Harry stumbled into the kitchen, relieved that breakfast hadn’t burned, and quickly plated everything up. He vaguely heard Severus say goodbye to Ron as he summoned butter and jam, and placed their plates onto the table. “Want anything particular to drink?” he asked, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

“Water is fine,” Severus told him.

“Flat or sparkling?”

“Is the sparkling lemon-flavored?”

Harry nodded, amazed that Dobby had known to purchase such a thing. “Yes.”

“I’ll have that, then. Thank you,” Severus said, easing into his seat, watching avidly as Harry poured him his drink. “Dinner this evening should prove eventful.”

Harry swallowed. “You know, you don’t have to go,” he said softly, stepping towards the table and handing Severus his drink.

Severus arched an eyebrow. “I believe I was invited. Am I to understand that the invitation was merely a falsehood?”

“No,” Harry said quickly, sinking into his chair beside Severus. “No, of course not. I just didn’t want you to go if you’d be uncomfortable...”

“Harry,” Severus said gently, taking ahold of his hand, “I would not have accepted Ron’s invitation if I thought discomfort would be something I would feel.”

Harry bit his lip. “All right...”

“Unless, of course, you don’t want me there...”

“No!” Harry cried out, clutching at Severus’s hand, and silently cursing himself for acting so pathetic and immature. “I want you there, Severus, really...”

Severus smiled at him. “Good,” he said, squeezing Harry’s hand a final time before turning him loose, and picking up his cutlery. “I look forward to this evening, then.”

Harry and Severus Apparated to the pre-arranged coordinates shortly before the reservations’ time, and Severus led Harry down the bustling street. The sun was just beginning its slow decent in the late-summer evening sky, and it illuminated the windows in the businesses around them an attractive pink shade. Severus gently moved the pad of his thumb against Harry’s knuckles, and Harry immediately began to relax at the movement. They got to the restaurant in good time, and Harry stared at the impressive pillar, the green awning, that massive windows, and the black lettering nailed to the stone above, bearing the name _Franco’s_.

Stepping inside, Severus stepped towards the host, giving the name on the reservation, and an assistant immediately stepped forward to show them to the private room which had been booked for their party that evening. Harry stayed glued to Severus’s side, forcing himself not to glare at the fit young man who showed them to the room, due to the fact that he was practically fucking Severus with his eyes. Once they were out of the main dining room, Severus caressed Harry’s arse, letting him know that he had picked up on his concerns.

Harry turned, looking up at the man. “Severus?” he whispered.

Severus leaned down and pressed his lips to his temple. “You’ve nothing to worry about,” he assured him, and then they were led into the private room. He let Harry go as his friends got to their feet and surrounded him, hugging taking place from all sides, and Severus even shook the hands he was presented.

“Thanks for coming, mate,” Ron whispered to him, setting him into the chair on his other side, with Severus slipping in next to him. Ron looked around the table; Hermione was to his left, with Ginny next to her, and Luna beside her, which left Neville to sit beside Severus, which was good, given that the former was curious to talk to him more about their chosen professions. Ron reached forward, tapping against his champagne flute, knowing that it wouldn’t be very smart to use _Sonorous_ in a Muggle establishment. “Everyone,” he said, and, once everyone had turned to face him, he took Hermione’s hand, which Harry noticed sported an elegant diamond ring, and thought that a cleverly-placed Concealment Charm had previously been at work. “I wanted you all here this evening to give you the good news.”

Ginny straightened in her chair. “Ron!” she cried out, clasping her hands together. “Is it true? Is it really true?”

“Yes, it’s true,” Ron replied patiently, and Hermione blushed becomingly. “I’ve asked ‘Mione to marry me, and she’s accepted.”

“He was being so distant lately, and then there was _suddenly_ some emergency Auror training last night, days before he was due to begin it properly,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

“How did you do it, mate?” Neville asked.

“Well, I told her about the training, and left the bungalow on Saturday bright and early,” Ron reported, sitting down beside Hermione at last, never letting go of her hand. “In actuality, I Apparated to the vacation spot her parents were at. Suffice it to say, they were surprised to see me there...”

“Thankfully, they went to my aunt’s villa in Italy, so it’s private to begin with,” Hermione continued, smiling indulgently at Ron.

“I told them how much in love I was with Hermione and that I wanted our future, and the next phase, of our relationship to begin on the right foot,” Ron went on. “I asked their permission to propose to Hermione, and her father said that they gave permission to ask, but not to marry her, because the ultimate decision was up to Hermione.”

Hermione giggled. “They’re terribly modern in that regard.”

“So, then I went to Diagon and worked my scheduled shift at the Wheezes; I had to do inventory that night, so I wasn’t home until late...”

“Which meant I was already asleep,” Hermione told them.

“I slept in later than I usually do, and Hermione wasn’t best pleased,” Ron said, grinning sheepishly at the company. “After I Floo’d all of you, inviting you to dinner, I asked Hermione to accompany me somewhere important.”

“The somewhere important must have been the proposal location,” Luna said dreamily.

“That’s right,” Ron said with a nod. “I took her to Hogwarts...”

“Hogwarts?!” Harry demanded, speaking for the first time. “Headmaster Dumbledore allowed you to do that?”

“Of course; I was a Prefect,” Ron said, shaking his head; it was still a sore spot for him, that Harry had held the appointment of Head Boy, despite Ron being a Prefect, but he brushed the thought aside and continued the story. “We took the train to Hogwarts, and I refused to tell Hermione what was going on. Once we got to the station, we walked through Hogsmeade and up onto the grounds, which is when we went inside the castle and into...”

“The library?” Harry guessed.

“Yes,” Hermione said, flushing even deeper.

“Madam Pince had already been tipped off,” Ron continued, “so she’d made herself scarce, and, since term hasn’t begun yet, no students were around.” Ron turned to Hermione and smiled at her, lifting her hand and kissing it. “I took her to the Restricted Section, by that beautiful stained glass window...”

“And then he asked me,” Hermione said, leaning into Ron’s shoulder. “I couldn’t believe it. I was so shocked that he’d come up with all of this on his own...” Immediately, she turned to Ginny. “He didn’t ask you for help, did he?”

Ginny grinned knowingly. “Of course not,” came the assurance. “Just with the ring selection, of course,” she told her future sister-in-law. “The rest was all up to him. I told him it would be more special if he planned it himself.”

“When did he get the ring, then?” Hermione asked.

“After you’d graduated,” Ginny told her.

Hermione turned and faced her fiancé, amusement causing her brown eyes to sparkle. “A fair bit of planning went into this, didn’t it?”

Ron immediately flushed to his ears. “Of course it did. After your dad told me how much you loved Chaucer, I was considering reading a work of his for the proposal...”

“And I promptly told my brother that, as much as we love him, it wouldn’t endear him to you to butcher a poet you hold so dear,” Ginny said, and Ron looked petulantly at her. “Besides, you know your way around the English language at the end of the day. And Hermione wants _you_ , of course—had she wanted a poet, she’d have gone for Anthony Goldstein.”

Hermione flushed. “Ginny!” she squeaked.

Ron bit his lip. “There was something between the two of you?”

“Briefly,” Hermione admitted, twisting her engagement ring nervously around her finger. “It was when you’d taken up with Lavender. I... I just wanted...”

Ron promptly took Hermione’s hand, catching her attention. “Then I’ve nothing to be upset or jealous about,” he told her. “I was a prat then, and didn’t notice what was right in front of me, and instead took what was on offer when it was thrown into my face. I’ll never forgive myself for that, ‘Mione, I won’t.”

Hermione’s lip trembled. “You... You’re not angry with me?”

“How could I possibly be angry with you for a relationship I wasn’t even aware of, when I was in one myself?” he asked, stroking her hand. “I couldn’t; not rationally, anyway.” He smiled before he leaned in and brushed her lips with his. “That’s over and done with now, now that he’s married Susan Bones. You and I have got our whole lives ahead of us.”

Harry sighed inwardly, and forced himself to contribute to the conversation when he was asked directly to do so, but remained virtually silent throughout the rest of the meal. He recalled ordering some sort of fish, but couldn’t tell you what it was, nor describe the taste. He knew that he had behaved abysmally at dinner, when, as best friend of both the future bride and groom, he should have been hanging on their every word, or, at the very least, been an active member of the conversations.

“You were awfully quiet after dinner,” Severus observed, once they’d gone back to his home, Harry’s arse delightfully sore from a round of epic sex.

“My screams of your name and begging you to go harder and deeper don’t count?” Harry asked with a slight grin.

Severus pursed his lips and shook his head. “I meant before bedroom activities began, Harry. I do hope nothing was said at the meal to upset you.”

“I’m not upset,” Harry said quickly, too quickly, and he felt Severus’s eyes upon him then as he sat up, pulling his legs towards his chest and resting his cheek upon them.

“Harry,” Severus said gently, moving his hand forwards to draw circles upon the small of his back, “I would like to know what is bothering you, please.”

Harry swallowed, not altogether sure how he should go about answering his lover, given that they were exclusive, in that they didn’t sleep with anyone else, and would willingly be seen in public at important events together, but... But, it wasn’t as if this was a proper relationship, like Ron and Hermione, or Neville and Luna, had... No, it was purely physical, and Severus reminded him of this often enough, so much so that Harry had mastered his ultimate poker face, never letting on how much it hurt to be retold of the very fact he’d agreed to.

“Harry.”

Harry raised his head then, looking at the front wall of Severus’s bedroom; perhaps it would be simpler to answer the question if he didn’t look at him. “Ron’s proposal... I don’t know. To be honest, it caught me off-guard a bit.”

“You were unaware that the two of them were headed in that direction?”

“No, I realized it,” Harry confirmed. “I even went to look at rings with Ron once, and Hermione certainly hinted at wanting to be engaged once we were in university...”

“But?”

“But it’s not going to be the same anymore,” Harry said quietly. “We’re not going to be those young kids at Hogwarts again...”

“You knew that growing up was going to happen, Harry.”

Harry swallowed. “Yes, I know,” he admitted. “I suppose I just thought that I’d be doing these things with them. Well, not with them-with them, but...”

“You mean marriage,” Severus said softly, his fingers ceasing their movement, as he contemplated Harry’s profile in the darkness of his bedroom. “You mean that you thought you would one day be married yourself.”

“I suppose so, yes,” Harry told him, gripping his legs, waiting for the rejection that he knew was just around the corner. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

Harry peeked over his shoulder at the man; he gritted his teeth, not wanting to cry in front of him, not wanting to be seen as weak. “Do you ever see yourself getting married?” he asked in a rush, not wanting his Gryffindor courage to fail him now.

“I don’t,” Severus told him honestly, and Harry hated himself for allowing the hope bubble through him as he awaited the answer. “I certainly don’t fault others who wish to make such a commitment. It is not that I don’t believe in marriage in general...”

“You just don’t believe in it for yourself,” Harry said quietly.

“Precisely,” Severus intoned. “I never believed it was the right path for me. I do not believe, however, in celibacy, which is why, whenever I take a man into my bed, I am always honest about my intentions, so as not to get any wires crossed.”

Harry forced a smile onto his lips. “Yes, of course,” he said.

Severus gave a nod. “Come, Harry. Lie beside me and get some rest.”

Harry nodded, facing away from the man and allowing him to pull him into his arms. Still gritting his teeth, Harry could not stop the tears which fell down his cheeks, and hoped that Severus did not sense his sadness. After all, this was never going to be a permanent arrangement, right? Severus would one day find someone far better than him—more experience, but with less emotions—so as the person in question wouldn’t...

Mentally, Harry shook himself. He had known what he was getting into when he agreed to be taken into Severus’s bed. Although it hurt, he had not been walking blind when he had agreed to such an agreement. As his heart broke, he heard the even breaths of the man behind him, and wondered, not for the first time, if the man ever thought of him in his dreams, and about keeping him in his life forever.

~*~

Harry was awoken early the following morning, and was subsequently pinned beneath the lean form of one Severus Snape. Smirking up at his older lover, Harry wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, determined to forget what had happened the evening before. “And do you have plans for me, Master Snape?” he asked coquettishly.

“Indeed, Mr. Potter,” he responded. “Indeed I do.”

Harry spread his legs as Severus teased his already-erect nipples with his precise fingers, and bit his tongue as one hand snaked lower, massaging his entrance. “Don’t tease me, Severus,” he whispered, emerald eyes locking with onyx.

“I fully intend to tease you as much as I like,” Severus declared, lowering his head and casually nipping at one of Harry’s earlobes, directly causing Harry to arch up against him. “I’ve already begun down this path, Harry, and I intend to see it through.”

Harry rolled his eyes when he thought Severus wasn’t looking, which earned him a hard slap on his arse. “Hey!” he cried.

“I’ve told you not to roll your eyes at me,” Severus uttered softly. “If we didn’t have further plans today, then your punishment would be worse.” Severus continued in his ministrations, summoning the lube wandlessly and wordlessly, and subsequently began rubbing Harry’s entrance, so much so that the younger man below him mewled in his ear.

“Please,” Harry begged, arching closer.

“Stay still,” Severus ordered, his tone firm, and Harry did his best to mold himself to the soft mattress beneath him. “Better,” the potions master said, a small smile upon his lips. He gently eased Harry’s arse open—which it still slightly was from the rough pounding the night before—and soon it was ready for his engorged cock. “Ready for me, Harry?”

Harry nodded, biting his lip; he was more than ready for the stretch and slight burn, which he had been growing used to the past several weeks. “Yes,” he breathed. “I’m ready, Severus.”

Severus’s eyes never drifted from Harry’s as he eased himself inside, permitting Harry a grace period of adjusting around his massive girth. Once he felt Harry’s velvet walls easing up around him, did he cant his hips forward, brushing Harry’s prostate with the head of his cock. “Do you like that, Harry?” Severus asked, in answer to a groan below him.

“Yes,” Harry whispered, “so much...”

Severus smiled. “I’m glad,” he replied.

Severus got to work in earnest then, pounding Harry into the mattress, cursing when Harry’s legs went around his torso, and his heels dug into his own arse. He tucked his head into the younger man’s neck, permitting himself to inhale the sweet scent of sweat and sex. There had been no one like Harry in all the years he had configured arrangements like this, and while that thought truly frightened him, what frightened him more was the notion that Harry would one day, inevitably, seek comfort elsewhere...

“Severus,” Harry groaned beneath him. “Fuck...”

Severus yanked himself backwards from the comfort of Harry’s embrace, before grabbing ahold of his hips and pounded into him unmercifully. The moans from underneath him indicated that he was getting somewhere, and so he sped up his thrusts. Smirking, Severus continued, moving his hand in between them to snag Harry’s own erect cock in his firm grip, pumping him in time to his own thrusts.

“Come for me, Harry,” he commanded.

Harry let out a pleasurable scream then, arching his back and pushing his cock even further into Severus’s sure grip. His screams turned into gasps as he squirted semen into his lover’s hand, and stared up at him, almost as if he was still shocked that the man could still elicit such a vocal and physical reaction from him. “Severus,” he breathed, the minx within him coming out to play, as he squeezed his inner walls around the older man.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Severus hissed through his teeth, his hands leaving Harry’s hips and flattening themselves onto the mattress beneath him. “Oh, fuck, Harry...”

“Yes,” Harry whispered back, loving seeing the man so unguarded like this.

Severus grunted then, spilling his release inside Harry, before pulling himself out and falling onto the mattress beside him. After a quick Cleaning Charm, he automatically pulled Harry into his arms. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Really?” Harry asked, leaning into the man’s side and propping himself up on his elbow. “And how is that?”

“Each time with you is different, yet in no way less satisfying,” Severus said honestly, although he was staring at the ceiling when he answered the question.

Harry smiled, taking what he could get, and leaned down, brushing his lips onto the man’s sculpted shoulder. “I am to please,” he replied with a shrug.

“Yes, I’m sure you do,” Severus said, squeezing Harry’s arse possessively for a moment, before letting him go and slipping out of bed. “I’ll instruct Orlee to make us a light breakfast while you shower first.”

Harry pushed himself up in the bed. “Oh. Do you need me to get out of your hair?” he asked, hating that the air of disappointment leaked into his tone.

“No,” Severus said, putting on his dressing gown, before turning to Harry and giving him a small smile. “We’ll be going out within the hour is all. Do your trainers work well for walking?” he asked, and Harry wondered why the man seemed curious about his feet.

“Uh, I suppose so,” Harry said.

Severus smirked. “I’ve never ascribed to be a foot fetishist, Harry, nor do I ever see myself doing so,” he told him, pressing a kiss onto his temple. “Get into the shower and do it quickly. We’ll never leave the house if I find you in there,” he said, smiling hungrily at him before he slipped from the master bedroom.

With both of their showers taken care of, Harry and Severus dined on grilled vegetable frittatas and a platter of fruit before they left the house. Severus took him to the Apparition point he had established in his lavish gardens, and the pair of them popped away. They dropped back into view in a rather sad terraced house area, and the scent of polluted water made Harry want to bring the neck of his jumper towards his nose. Doing his best not to cough, he permitted Severus to lead him from the alley, where they saw the other bricked houses, a mill in the distance which appeared abandoned, and the foul-smelling river.

“Where are we?” Harry asked softly as they walked along.

“Spinner’s End,” Severus responded, and Harry recalled the name from somewhere, although he couldn’t readily place it. “This is where I grew up.”

Harry swallowed, knowing that Severus’s formative years, and his Hogwarts ones, had shaped in this sad-looking place. _It is no wonder he thought Slughorn appeared to be a comfort_ , he thought darkly to himself, although it pained him to think it. “Which house was yours?” he asked instead, his tone gentle.

Severus gave him a bitter smile and gestured with his head, indicating that Harry should follow him down the road of one street of the terraced homes. Severus kept on walking, his face set in a neutral expression, although it was his eyes which told a different story. He finally came to a stop at the end of one row of houses, and Harry made sure not to inadvertently plow into him from behind. Severus nodded his head towards a dilapidated looking house; the roof was slightly caved in on one side, and the massive bay window in front was smashed, and haphazardly covered with a water-damaged piece of wood.

“Oh, Severus,” Harry whispered.

“Other than my summers and Christmas holidays until I was seventeen, I was here,” he said quietly, the bitter smile returning. “Albus wouldn’t hear of a child remaining at Hogwarts if they had a home to go to. Although,” he said, turning away from the house and continuing to walk down the street, “the term ‘home’ is used loosely here.”

“Siris’s name wasn’t cleared in time to save me from my aunt and uncle,” Harry said softly as they walked along the rain-soaked and cracked sidewalk. “When I got to Hogwarts, I was malnourished and abused. Headmaster Dumbledore was shocked at the brutality I’d faced by the age of eleven that he had Molly and Arthur foster me. Sirius was always my parents’ first choice for a guardian, as my godfather, but, with his incarceration, it rendered him ineligible to care for a child.”

“Naturally,” Severus responded, and Harry was relieved to hear no animosity in his tone. “And what of Remus Lupin?”

“Remus was broke, due to the fact that the Werewolf Reformations hadn’t even been brought to the Wizengamot’s attention,” Harry said bitterly. “His mother cared for him, but his father ordered him out of the house; he hated werewolves, and never accepted the fact that it was his words and beliefs that got his own son bitten in the first place...” Harry sighed. “I became friends with Ron immediately and, by Christmas, Molly and Arthur had welcomed me into their home, and they managed to get custody of me rather quickly. I’ll be forever grateful to Amelia Bones for pushing the paperwork through...”

“Yes, she is a worthy advocate to have,” Severus acknowledged, and they turned onto another main street. He kept walking, remaining silent, and Harry relished in the quiet, until they came to a clear pond, and a forest surrounding it, a few moments later. “It’s beautiful here,” he said quietly, looking around and becoming accustomed to his surroundings.

“Yes, isn’t it just?” Severus asked, walking over the stone bridge, Harry behind him, and moved towards the grass on the banks of the pond, just beyond the forest. Looking around, he cast a Drying Charm onto the grass, large enough for himself and for Harry, and sat, sighing when Harry sat beside him. “It is here that I met your mother.”

Harry, who had sat down beside the man, immediately turned to face him. “Here?” he whispered, amazed that Severus brought him.

Severus nodded. “Yes.” He looked around Harry then, and pointed to a massive tree, separate from the forest behind them, on a small hill above the pond. “I was hiding behind that tree, and watched Lily, and her sister, Petunia, played. Things turned sour when Lily caused a flower to bloom in her very hand, and Petunia called her a...”

“Freak,” Harry whispered, shuddering from beside Severus, and the older man turned to look over at him. “Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of her insult of choice more than once during my childhood.”

Severus reached between them and squeezed Harry’s hand. “If it is too difficult for you to hear about it...”

“No,” Harry said quickly, locking eyes with Severus. “Please. I want to know. Aunt Petunia never said anything good about her, the Weasleys weren’t very familiar with them, and Sirius and Remus always talked about my father. Please. I don’t know much about my mother, and even though it is difficult, I still want to hear about her.”

Severus smiled. “Very well,” he said, turning back towards the tree. “I stepped out from behind the tree, while all the while Petunia was whinging about telling their mother, but ran off the moment she spotted me. I charmed a blade of grass to fly towards her, and Lily was my friend from that moment on. She would never have me say anything bad abou Petunia, no matter what she had previously said about her or what we were...”

Harry smiled softly then. “She was kind. I knew that much...”

“She was very kind,” Severus told him. “Our first falling out took place within those trees,” he went on, getting to his feet, and Harry scampered after him. “We would frequently meet here, because most of the adults who could typically see us would be at work.” Severus stepped into the first cluster of trees, waiting for Harry to follow him before he stepped further inside. Once he did so, they walked in silence until they got to the first clearing, where Severus stopped walking, as did Harry. “I taught Lily about control, and showed her how to levitate various objects, seemingly hidden from the outside world.”

Harry stared into the clearing, imagining his mother and Severus sitting there together, talking about attending Hogwarts together, and dreams that they hoped to achieve. “What happened here, Severus?” he whispered.

“Petunia arrived unexpectedly; she was always spying on us in one form or another. I was levitating a tree limb at the time,” Severus said quietly.

“When you accidentally dropped it onto her head,” said Harry softly, remembering Severus telling him the tale.

“Yes,” Severus said softly. “Lily didn’t speak to me for weeks afterwards, and I thought it had been solved by the time we got onto the Hogwarts Express...”

“Remus and Sirius said they met Mum with Dad then...”

“They did,” Severus responded. “The rivalry began then. I selfishly wanted Lily in Slytherin with me, but she was much better-suited to Gryffindor, I see that now...”

“It’s all right,” Harry whispered. “You don’t have to tell me anymore...”

Severus sighed, reaching out for Harry, and Apparated them away. They arrived in an alley in the center of a small town, and, as they walked out, Severus pointed to the dainty little cottages at the end of the lane. “That pale pink one there, with the brown shutters,” Severus said, and Harry followed his gaze. “That was your mother’s house.”

A white building just across the way caught Harry’s eye. It was well after-lunch now, and Harry gently pulled Severus towards the building that declared it The Royal Oak. Once inside and sitting down, Severus ordered a leek and mushroom pie and mash meal with a glass of reserve white wine. Harry opted for a cider, with a cheese and tomato toastie, and warmed his hands up beneath his jeans-clad legs.

“Are you upset with me?”

“For what?” Harry asked, looking across the table at the man. “What have you done to me that could possibly make me upset with you?”

Severus sighed, thanking the waiter when their wine and cider were brought. “I suppose I haven’t done anything directly to you,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to make sure that you were all right with the events of the day.”

Harry swirled his cider within its glass in contemplation. “I guess I just didn’t want you to be upset from your recollections,” he confessed.

Severus blinked. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that I didn’t want today’s experience to prove too much for you.” Harry bit at his tongue, considering. “Look, I know that rehashing certain events from one’s past can be pretty difficult sometimes. I’m no psychiatrist, but I do know a thing or two about having a rough childhood. Don’t doubt me when I say that I understand at least some of what you feel, Severus, because it’s true.”

Severus lowered his eyes to the wood grain of the table. “Yes, I suppose that’s true...” He broke off, tasting his wine, and nodding in approval at his selection. “Well, I hope that today’s outing was all right with you.”

“Of course it was,” Harry assured him. “As I said, I don’t know much about my mum. It’s always nice to hear about her, no matter how little information it is.”

“She was fond of Care of Magical Creatures. She couldn’t stop talking about the bloody unicorn lesson for weeks,” Severus said, smiling down at the surface of the table. “She never liked butterbeer, and it was because of her that Madam Rosmerta sold hot chocolate at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade; she turned so many people on to the drink...” He hesitated, a frown developing onto his face. “Many people think that our falling out in fifth-year, when I called her that despicable word, caused our friendship to end, but...”

“What, Severus?” Harry asked. “Please. Tell me.”

“Lily was Horace’s favorite student,” Severus went on, and Harry gripped onto his glass of cider at the direct mention of his former potion’s professor. “She was the only one he trusted in his private lab unsupervised...”

“Slughorn… He didn’t...?”

“No, Harry. Horace never sought a companion of the fairer sex,” Severus told him. “Anyhow, it was a shock to me when Lily told Horace that I should use his private lab as well. Our relationship had already begun, so he naturally agreed. We talked, and for the next several weeks, things were looking up...”

“Until?” Harry asked.

“Until James got it into his head that Lily and I were, once again, too close,” he said bitterly. “I never acted like Lily was anything but a friend to me, but James was insistent that I was after Lily romantically.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? I couldn’t go to Lily—she was tired of hearing James’s ridiculous stories, as she called them. I couldn’t go to Albus, because it was a trivial thing, and he would never discipline the Marauder’s. So, I went to speak with Horace, and he assured me that all would work itself out... Then he convinced me to bend over his desk for him. Sirius had detention that night and spotted us, so when I saw him alone again, I threatened to hex him with one of my personally patented hexes in order to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s why he lured you into the Shrieking Shack,” Harry whispered, suddenly figuring out the entire story.

“Yes,” Severus responded. “He tipped off James beforehand, so tha he could ‘see the show’, as it were... James, finally realizing that I didn’t have designs on Lily, saved me. In exchange, he told me to stay away from her, and I agreed.”

“Did Mum ever find out?”

“Yes,” Severus said. “Shortly before graduation, when I was relaxing after my final NEWTs examination, she confronted me about it. She told me that she would go to the Board of Governors if I refused to break it off, to find out if I’d cheated at potions. She also said that she would go to the Wizengamot about Horace’s behavior. I told her that it didn’t happen until I was sixteen, and she agreed to not speak of it again, on the condition that I ended things with Horace once and for all.”

“And did you?”

“Yes,” Severus responded. “He was never the same after that around me. He flew into a rage initially when I ended things, and Steora always told me when he took things too far in a disciplinary sort of way...” He shook his head.

“How wasn’t he the same?” Harry asked.

“He’s distant... Professional, to be sure. But there was never that trademark warmth within him whenever I spoke to him anymore.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Well, I’m just glad you got out of his clutches.”

Severus smiled. “Yes. It all worked out, didn’t it?”

Harry forced a smile onto his face. “It did, didn’t it?”

Harry kept his mouth shut until their lunch was over, and then Severus left to cultivate some ingredients at the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Harry Apparated back to his flat, his mind going a mile a minute. After routinely greeting Hedwig, he made his way over to his Floo, and knelt before it.

“Granger-Weasley flat,” he said, and stepped right through.

“Harry!” Hermione cried out, dashing towards him, and smoothing the soot from his clothing with a smile on her face. “We weren’t expecting you...”

“Ron’s here?”

“Oh, no. He’s at the shop today,” she said quickly, picking up Crookshanks in her arms. “Is anything the matter? Are you all right? Are things with Severus all right?”

“I’m fine,” Harry told her. “It’s just... I don’t know. Something Severus said at lunch today got me thinking...”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Hermione asked.

Harry sighed. “I mentioned Steora to you...”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, of course. Anyone who is a member of Severus’s family is likely to have a fine mind,” she told him with a smile.

Harry bit his lip, pacing the floor. “Of course she does. She’s an Auror, and good friends with Tonks. She was a Ravenclaw, did you know that?”

Hermione blinked. “No, I didn’t. I’m just relieved that the rest of the Prince family wasn’t alive to see that.”

Harry swiveled around to face her. “What do you mean?”

“Just that families like the Prince family have traditional values. Severus’s mother was a Slytherin, and so was he. It’s only natural that Steora could have been seen as lacking in some way for not falling in line during her sorting...”

“And not in other ways either, apparently,” Harry said, dragging his hands through his hair in a moment of fear.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly, letting Crookshanks go and sitting slowly upon her couch. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Harry sat down beside her. “Steora was cursed when she was just a baby,” he told her.

Hermione’s hands went to her lips. “Oh, Merlin, no!” she whispered.

“Steora was born just before Severus was due to graduate from Hogwarts,” he went on. “It was just before graduation that he broke things off with Slughorn.”

Hermione lowered her hands. “Harry, what are you saying right now?”

“I’m saying that, although Severus’s potions are amazing, they can’t possibly be a permanent solution,” Harry told her.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “Yes. I think Slughorn was the one who cursed Steora, for revenge against Severus for leaving him.”

“But actually cursing his sister...”

“He was a friend of the family, Hermione. He had motive and opportunity...”

“But Steora was an innocent!” she cried out. “What could Horace Slughorn possibly gain from cursing a defenseless baby?”

Harry’s eyes locked with Hermione’s. “The same thing that Tom Riddle did when he cursed me, Hermione. Power.”

Hermione shook her head. “Merlin,” she whispered, staring at the floor.

Harry reached out and took her hand. “Hermione, I need your help.”

Hermione bit her lip, nodding her head as she slowly looked up at Harry. “Yes, you do,” she said softly, her voice filled with determination.

Harry smiled, relieved to have her on his side. “Where do we start?” he asked.

Hermione straightened up then, knowing exactly what to do. “We need access to the Restricted Section in the Hogwarts Library,” she told him.


End file.
